


The Tree of Life

by ladydeathfaerie



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Get together fic, Language, M/M, Not Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase Two Compliant, Outside Point of View, Polyamorous relationship, canonical (temporary) death, mild delirium brought on by pain killers, sex is implied but there is no actual sex in this story, use of magic and its consequences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2507786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydeathfaerie/pseuds/ladydeathfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Clint Barton moves into a new apartment building, he makes friends with a shy young woman that lives across the hall. She figures out pretty quickly that he's keeping secrets from her but she's okay with that. She never questions him about those times when he has to leave in the middle of the night or when he comes home after being gone two weeks and he's sporting fresh wounds. She's like the little sister he never had. And as their friendship grows and deepens, Clint comes to realize that Cayleigh's got secrets of her own. </p>
<p>When Clint's world comes crashing down around his head, can Cayleigh's secrets be the key to putting his shattered heart back together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: Spring

**Author's Note:**

> this is an idea that bounced around in my head for some time, then the big bang opened up and some perverse part of me said, hey! perfect time to write this story. many thanks to my cheerleader and beta , [Dazzledfirestar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzledfirestar/pseuds/Dazzledfirestar), for keeping me on task when i seriously wanted to give up. and many thanks to [dentalfloss](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dentalfloss/pseuds/dentalfloss) for the lovely art. which i will link to or something later
> 
> the story is meant to take place for several years before the events of "The Avengers" though i was never specific about the actual time lapse. it continues through the events of the movie and after. two thirds of the story is told from an outside perspective, with the last third told from Clint's point of view. while it mentions movie events, i chose not to go into those events with any great detail. instead, i concentrated more on the personal lives of the characters and their interactions. i hope you enjoy it.
> 
> NOW WITH ART! here's a link to the amazing artwork that the amazing dentalfloss did for this story. i am truly amazed and humbled by the effort she put forth. go admire it and tell her how amazing she is! [The Tree of Life art](http://aerlatro.livejournal.com/2353.html)

He moves in on a Tuesday. Not that other people don't move in on Tuesdays. But they usually do so as quickly and quietly as possible. As if they don't want to let anyone else in the building know that they are there. He isn't most people. He moves in on a Tuesday and she remembers that because she can hear him in the hallway, talking and laughing and generally making noise. She finds herself curious and goes to the door, cracks it a little bit, and peers out at the scene in the hall.

He is laughing when she first lays eyes on him, eyes crinkled at the corners and nose wrinkled slightly as he lets go with riotous merriment. It is loud enough to fill the hall and draw the attention of other tenants in the building. His joy seems incongruous next to the more serious looking woman with red hair that's helping him maneuver an awkwardly shaped sofa through the open door of the apartment across the hall from her own. But he says something in a language she doesn't recognize and it brings laughter bubbling up the serious woman's throat.

She can see that there is an easy camaraderie between them. Its in the way they joke back and forth with one another. In the way they seem comfortable and at ease. But under that is a deep bond forged in the fires of something dark and dangerous. That bond feels as if it is strong as steel. And permanent. 

Her thoughts are driven away by a soft, familiar flutter against her skin. A warning she knows better than to ignore. She shifts to step back into her apartment, to seek solace behind her closed door, when his eyes find hers across the hall. She expects one of those looks that she always gets from people, the kind of look that assesses and condemns her all in the space of a single, seconds-long glance. But there is none of that in his eyes. They are open and pleasant. As is his face, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes as he smiles at her. "We've got an audience. Don't make an ass out of me in front of my neighbor," he tells the woman helping him, not even bothering with a stage whisper. 

"You don't need my help with that, Clint," the woman deadpans. The man laughs again, obviously not taking any offense. "What you do need my help with is getting this crappy couch through your door. This is why I told you that you should have gone to IKEA and bought one you could assemble inside the apartment."

He rolls his eyes at her. "Perish the thought. I love this couch." 

"So I smell," she quips. 

"Laugh all you want. I seem to recall you've spent your fare share of nights on this couch," he returns. She says nothing to that. But the tight set of the woman's shoulders suggests she is not pleased with the turn of events. She thinks it might be because the couch does not want to budge through the doorway. The woman mutters a few words in what sounds like Russian, then steps back and crosses her arms over her chest. The glare she shoots at the man is easy to read. "Okay. Give me a second to do some calculations," he mutters, mostly to himself, as his eyes sweep over the jammed piece of furniture and the door frame. 

Its only a minute later that whatever is holding the couch up makes itself aware to him because he ducks under the couch and pops up out in the hall. The redhead stares at him a moment or two, then does her own ducking maneuver. She takes his place on the inside. "Got it?" he asks, one hand reaching for the couch's frame where it rests against the wood of the door's frame. 

"Yes," the woman replies. 

"On three," he tells his companion. From her spot inside her door, she can't see his face anymore, but she suspects he is counting down silently. A second later, his hand does something and the couch shifts as if it is stuffed with cotton. It slides through the door easily and he disappears into the apartment with a few words to his friend that must also be in Russian. A moment later, there is a soft thump as they set the couch down. Before she can consider stepping back inside and closing her door, the redheaded woman reappears. The man follows behind her. "Thanks for the help, Tasha. I owe you one." 

"You owe me more than one, Clint," she remarks, and there is a soft fondness in her voice this time. She gives him a faint smile before turning for the elevator. Ten seconds later, the redhead is gone and she finds herself alone with a new neighbor who smiles at her without reservation. She shifts just a little, feels a faint flutter of nerves in her belly, and wonders how she can disappear into her apartment gracefully. 

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to disturb you. Neighbor." His voice is all sincerity as he speaks and he takes a few steps closer to her door. "Since I'm new to the neighborhood, maybe you can do me a big favor and point me in the direction of a good take out place. You know. No food." One hand motions back toward his open door. 

He doesn't crowd her, as if he knows that she needs the buffer of distance to keep from forgetting herself. And the smile on his face is so earnest and genuine. Normally, she goes out of her way to avoid the other people in the building, unwilling and unable to get involved with their daily lives. No matter how much she might like to do just that. She is shy, slightly reclusive. She likes her privacy. She likes not being crowded by the people who live around her. But there is something about this man that is so terribly honest that she finds herself giving him a tentative smile. "I guess that depends on what kind of take out you're looking for." 

"I was thinking Chinese and some cold beer. The perfect celebratory moving in meal." He glances from her back to his apartment. "I would be willing to pick up a few extra items and share my cheap Chinese take out with my new neighbor. I might even be persuaded to share my beer." 

"You don't want to eat the Chinese in this neighborhood," she tells him politely. "And surely you can find someone else to share your ill gotten goods with." 

"You mean the other tenants?" he asks, eyes glancing up and down the hall. She nods. After a second glance up and down the hall, this time done furtively, he offers her a knowing smile and leans closer as if he is sharing a secret. "I haven't met any of them yet. But I have met you and you seem like a really cool person." 

His actions are kind of silly and the urge to laugh bubbles up inside of her. She holds on to it, though, uncertain why a complete stranger is being so nice to her. It isn't uncommon for strangers to be nice, but she is always very careful in her interactions with other people. She's grown accustomed to being by herself. She doesn't even really have problems with it most of the time. But, for some unknown reason, she wants to take him up on his offer. There is something about his openness and his honest nature that make her want to go to dinner with him. Possibly even be his friend. It is a very strange feeling.

She really shouldn't even be thinking about giving in. She knows what she'll find at the end of that path and she isn't capable of dealing with the insanity that will come. She should thank him for the kind offer, then decline as gracefully as she can. Then she should step back into her apartment and close the door on him to get her point across. Its the smartest and safest thing to do. She even speaks the words in her head before delivering them to him, to ensure that she sounds genuine and sincere. But the words never make it past her lips. Because he's staring at her with such a hopeful look on his face. It prompts her brain to take another route entirely. 

"I'm not looking for a romantic entanglement," she informs him. 

His smile is sweet and understanding. "Neither am I. I'm just looking for a friend." Its said plaintively. Seriously. And it doesn't take anything more than her powers of observation to see that he is genuinely looking for a friend.

She offers him a tentative smile and her hand. "Well, friend. I think its best if you call me Cayleigh. And I know a hole in the wall hamburger place with the best fries and the coldest beer in the city."

He takes her hand in a firm grip, shakes it just as firmly. "Clint. And let me get my keys and my wallet. Then we'll go feast on these amazing burgers." Warmth tingles under her hand when he draws his away and she watches him step back into his apartment in something like shock. What the hell is she doing? She knows better than this. Befriending this man will only end in sorrow. She can already tell. And still... She's going to do it anyway. 

Shaking her head at herself, she steps inside and tugs on her shoes, then scoops up her coat and her bag and meets him out in the hallway with that same tentative smile on her face. And a thrill of excitement racing up her spine. 

~*~

The booth they take at the Burger Bar is in the corner, partially in shadows. Clint had picked it when they'd walked in and she hadn't thought anything of it at the time. But watching his gaze occasionally flicking around the interior makes her think that he's chosen this booth for a reason. His back is to the wall and their position allows him to watch the whole place without moving his head. It makes her wonder for the hundredth time if befriending this man is really a wise idea. Most people are not that attentive to their surroundings unless they have reason to be. But every time he looks at her, he wears that absolutely genuine, utterly sweet smile, and her doubts fly right out the window. 

"You're right. This is the best burger I've had in years," Clint tells her as he swallows down his latest bite. She swirls a fry through a small puddle of ketchup and chews at it absently a moment before offering another tentative smile. He sets the burger down and gives her a hard stare. "I make you nervous, don't I?" 

Cayleigh looks up at him to find him studying her intently. Some of the pleasure that had been on his face has slipped away with his statement, making her feel like crap for letting him see that. She makes a gesture with one hand that doesn't really mean anything, then heaves a sigh. "I'm sorry. You've been a perfect gentleman so far and I really shouldn't be nervous. But..." she trails off, unsure how to explain it. 

"But you are." He sits back in the booth and settles his hands on the table before him. "That's completely understandable. I'm a total stranger and you only came out here with me on a whim. So what can I do to make you feel more at ease?"

"You can tell me more about yourself," she suggests. She isn't sure it will help, but it certainly can't hurt. "I mean, I know your name and I know you just moved into my building. I'm sure there's more to you than just those things."

He gives her a look, as if he isn't sure he's heard her right. For a moment, she has a sense that he is as lonely as she is. But the moment passes. The smile he puts on is a little brittle. Not as genuine. "What do you want to know?" 

"What do you do for a living? Are you seeing anyone? Are you secretly a mass murderer on the run from the law?" The questions come out rapid-fire, before she has time to stop herself. As soon as the last one hits the air, she cringes and opens her mouth to apologize. But it is apparently exactly what's needed to break the tension because Clint smiles at her and bursts into the same laughter she'd heard in the hallway only a short time ago. 

"I can promise you that I'm not a mass murderer," he replies as soon as the laughter dies down. A touch of amusement sparkles in his eyes and tweaks the corners of his mouth upward, as if he can't quite push the smile down. "My job is with the government, so I really can't say what I do. But I travel a lot. And I am presently not seeing anyone. Work always gets in the way of relationships. It gets lonely sometimes, but I don't want to put anyone through the craziness that is my life." 

His voice is filled with sincerity. And she wants to believe that he is some kind of government spy or something equally ludicrous. But she's pretty sure that its just a line to avoid talking about what it is he actually does. Maybe he's a male stripper and he's embarrassed by it? He certainly has the physique for such a job. But the sense she gets off him is that he wouldn't be embarrassed by such a career. Maybe he isn't ready to tell her what his job is. Fair enough. They don't know each other all that well just yet. 

"Ah. I see. Secretive. Well, Mr. Bond, I'll let you have your secrets. For now. But if we're going to be friends, you're going to have to share your secrets with me eventually." She swirls another fry through the dwindling ketchup and pops it into her mouth, then offers him a smile. A more genuine one this time. He laughs at her, then motions toward her with one hand. 

"What about you? What kind of exciting things do you do with your time when you aren't having dinner with perfect strangers?" 

"I work for an ad company," she replies before nibbling at her own burger. 

"Advertising. Any ads I might have seen?" He sounds like he's really interested. 

"Probably not. I'm one of the junior people. For now. I hope to move up the ladder soon. I really like my job and I think I'm good at it." She lets her pride ring in her voice. He smiles in return.

"I like to think I'm good at my job, too. I guess I must be. My boss tends to tell me I have a smart mouth that I use far too often for my own good. But I'm still working for him. So either I'm really good at my job or he likes my smart mouth." Clint pauses and sips at his beer, then shoots her a wide, wicked grin. "Personally, I think its both." 

She finds herself laughing at him and wonders at it. She still really doesn't know anything about him, but the tension that had pulled tight across her shoulders earlier in the hallway lessens with each one of his words. Its strange, because she isn't one to just implicitly trust an absolute stranger. But something about Clint makes her want to do just that. It has been a very long time since she's felt she could be so at ease with another human being. 

"Be right back," Clint tells her, standing from the booth and cutting into her thoughts for just a moment. His gaze scans the room again quickly before coming back to her face. "Nature's howling. You'll be okay here for a few on your own?" 

"I'll be fine," she assures him, not quite understanding why she needs to do so. Nor does she understand why he feels he needs to protect her. A smile proves to him that she is indeed just fine. He gives a nod, then turns and heads for the short hallway that plays home to the restaurant's bathrooms. When he disappears around the corner, she lets her thoughts run wild.

She's been alone for a long time. That was a conscious decision she made in order to protect herself. And she'd stuck by that decision for many years. She'd planned on living that way the rest of her life. She'd been prepared and content to spend her days alone. Until, that is, a secretive guy with a sweet smile decides to move in right across from her.

What is it about Clint, exactly, that draws her to him? Why has she latched onto him so easily and so fast when she hasn't latched onto another living soul in years? The rational part of her brain is screaming at her to get up and leave and never look back. And she really should do that. She just can't convince herself that she needs to stand up and walk out the door. She doesn't want to go. She doesn't want to push him away. She's honestly tired of her self-imposed loneliness. Maybe it will work this time. Maybe she can do it. She just has to be careful, watch herself.

"That is a very serious look. I hope it isn't because of bad thoughts," Clint says as he slides into the booth across from her. Cayleigh shakes off the frown she's wearing and replaces it with a smile. It does little to drive away the concern that has come to rest on his face. 

"No bad thoughts. I promise," she replies. One eyebrow shoots up to express his disbelief. That look makes her smile widen while warmth gradually spreads through her limbs. She should not find his concern to be anything other than creepy, as they barely know one another. However, the more time she spends in his presence, the more her instincts tell her that the initial sense of honesty she'd gotten from him is dead on. "If I'm lying, I'm buying," she tells him, one hand motioning to the greasy feast laid out before them. That brings a smile back to his face and, just like that, the man is completely at ease again.

"Well, then. I guess its a good thing you're not lying because this meal is on me," he informs her before diving back into his burger. Cayleigh smiles at that before taking a bite from her own burger. They chew in companionable silence, the low hum of customer chatter and the muffled sounds of music over the P.A. filling the void. She's surprised to find that she is really relaxed and at ease, despite the fact that a man she barely knows is sitting across the table from her. 

Its a novel experience for her, to be so close to someone and not be closed off. It isn't something she does much anymore. Normally, she keeps herself bottled up tightly when she's near people. It doesn't do to lose control and expose her secrets. It has become second nature to avoid interactions with strange people outside of work. She spends most of her days hidden behind the walls of her apartment. Being around Clint, _wanting_ to be around Clint, is new and exciting. And very, very frightening. Because she knows what's at stake if she forgets herself for even one moment.

"You've got that serious look again. Is my buying you dinner going to cause trouble for you?" he asks, once more breaking across her rampant thoughts and bringing her back to their table at the Burger Bar. She shakes her head, sitting back so her shoulders rest against the high back of the booth. 

"No. No trouble. Not unless you plan on running out without paying the bill." 

He laughs softly at that, sitting back to copy her pose. "Those days are long behind me. I can afford a couple burgers and a couple beers. I promise. Its just that this is the second time I've caught you with a pensive look on your face. So naturally I'm now worried that you have a boyfriend who might misconstrue my intentions." 

She laughs at that, genuine laughter that holds a touch of sorrow to it. "You don't have to worry about an angry boyfriend. I am very much single. In fact, I haven't been with anyone in almost five years. My last girlfriend and I split up over something really stupid and I just haven't been able to trust anyone since. She broke my heart." 

She watches as sadness and understanding fill his gaze, blue eyes darkening a little bit. "I'm sorry to hear that." 

Cayleigh shrugs and reaches for her beer. "Not much I can do about it now. And, looking back on it, I think it was for the best. I mean, we really cared about one another, but I don't think we loved one another the way we should have."

Clint makes a sound that she thinks can probably mean anything. He reaches for a fry and gives her a look that says he'd been there, too. "Sometimes, though, love isn't enough to make things last. Sometimes, you and the person you love are better off not together. Its a hard lesson to learn." 

"I'm sorry," she responds softly. 

He smiles and waves a hand, as if erasing the sudden melancholy that has settled between them. "Don't be. I was young and impulsive. I thought that love would make it last. I was wrong. We got divorced but we're still friends. I still love her. She still loves me. But we know now that friends is all we really can be. I'm okay with that."

And he really is. She can tell. She doesn't bother to hide her smile. "So. Married once. Kids?" 

"No. No kids. Wasn't in the cards," he replies. She senses a touch of sorrow to his words, is about to dig deeper into it, when a faint flutter reminds her that she has no business doing so. Instead, she reaches for more fries. He shrugs his shoulder and forces his emotions back into a box. The smile he turns toward her is a little bit strained, though. "Probably for the best. I'm always traveling for work. It wouldn't be fair to her or the kids. I would never have asked her to give up her career anymore than she would have asked me to give up mine." 

"Also, if that had happened, you would not be buying me this gourmet meal tonight." Cayleigh motions to her partially eaten burger. "Best offer I've had all day." 

"Well, now. That's just sad," Clint replies. But he laughs, as she means him to. The warmth of his amusement washes over her and makes her feel safe. At home. It should have been a scary thing to feel. It absolutely isn't. And even that isn't scary.

~*~*~*~*~

It takes Clint the rest of the week to get fully moved in. When he finishes, he invites Cayleigh over for a small celebration. She expects a bachelor's place, with clothes strewn on the floor and dirty dishes littering every surface. What she gets, though, is a very neat apartment that might have been used in a magazine photo shoot with sleek, new appliances that are all chrome and black, and furniture that is wood and leather. Minus the beat up old sofa she'd seen him and his friend bringing in, which has been given a place of honor before the large flat screen television. There are warm paintings of wide open spaces on the walls. They are interspersed with prints of fantastic buildings from all over the world. 

It is very warm and welcoming and Cayleigh finds herself spending more and more time there. 

Of course, like he'd told her, Clint's hours are odd. Some weeks, he leaves at about six in the morning and he's back by seven in the evening. Normal hours, if a bit long. But then there are times when he leaves with a couple of bags in hand at four in the afternoon. Sometimes he's gone before she wakes in the mornings. And sometimes she'll catch him leaving at midnight. He never tells her where he goes. She only asks twice before giving up on it. Anytime she does see him leaving, he gives her a wink and a smile and tells her he'll see her again in a few days. 

At first, she thinks nothing of his odd hours. Maybe he has one of those jobs that demands he be ready for sudden business trips at any hour of the day. He certainly isn't leaving at all hours because he's like James Bond or anything. That idea is just nonsense and she really is silly to continue entertaining the idea that Clint was some kind of spy. He'd only told her, after all, that he works for the government. There are lots of positions to be had with the government. Surely someone as memorable as Clint Barton is not suited to be a spy. He's certainly made an impression on the tenants on their floor. She tries hard to push that line of thought from her head because it really is ridiculous.

But then comes the first time he gets off the elevator wearing clothes that are dirty and torn, white bandages bright against his tanned skin. He's walking on his own, even if he does limp a bit, and the smile he offers when he sees her is a little tired. He doesn't invite her in that night, nor does she press beyond asking if he'll be okay on his own. He assures her he'll be fine, then he disappears into his apartment and she doesn't see him again for three days.

For a month or two, it seems like the injuries are an isolated incident. Until he gets off the elevator with his friend Natasha one day, one of her arms wrapped tightly around his back so that he can lean on her. Cayleigh can see a bruise forming along the edge of his jaw and he seems to be favoring his left side. Natasha doesn't look much better, her hair dark with soot and dirt. But she doesn't have any visible bandages and she wears a determined look in her eye. She's speaking to Clint under her breath, words Cayleigh doesn't understand. It takes a few moments for her to decide that Natasha sounds as if she's speaking Russian. When they see her in the doorway, silence falls as Natasha stops talking. Clint tries for his usual devil-may-care smile and misses the mark. Then he promises her that he's okay and quips that she should see the other guy and the two of them disappear into Clint's apartment without another word.

Time trickles on. Cayleigh's schedule is ever the same, seemingly written in stone. She gets up in the morning, has coffee and breakfast, goes to work during the week. Comes home at night and slips silently into her apartment with only the occasional stop at the grocery store for essentials. She goes to bed at a moderately reasonable hour and sleeps the night through, only to get up and do it again come the next morning. She sometimes works on weekends and sometimes doesn't. Her life is steady, if dull and predictable.

She never realized before meeting Clint that her life is so utterly boring. Now that she has met him, she finds that she isn't as fond of the solitude and boredom that she had once convinced herself is perfectly acceptable.

Clint is excitement. He comes and goes like a summer breeze. He laughs and smiles and shares his home with her. He teases her and treats her like she's his little sister. He takes her to dinner once a week when he's home and capable of doing so. She takes him baked goods fresh from her oven, and loaves of his favorite specialty bread from a small bakery just a few blocks over. She picks up movies from the rental box at the local market and they watch the latest blockbuster hits and eat microwave popcorn, and he occasionally remarks about the impossibility of a shot when a character fires a gun. As if he's some kind of expert on the subject.

He introduces her to his friends, those people who bring him home when he's hurt and those who stop in to check on him when he's resting up. Besides Natasha, there is an older gentleman who always wears a smile and an impeccable suit that Clint introduces as simply Coulson. A younger man in glasses who also wears suits called Jasper. An Asian woman who never seems to smile named Melinda. A tall, thin woman with dark hair and a serious face that goes by Maria. A black man wearing a leather trench coat and an eye patch, jagged scars creeping out from under the edge of it to say that there is a story hidden under the dark material. Clint introduces him as Nick Fury and Cayleigh thinks that the name was so very appropriate.

She knows they are all dangerous. Some of them definitely look the part. Some of them give the appearance of innocence, so she has to get a deeper read on them. She ignores the fluttering her digging creates as she works at discovering if these people are friend or foe to Clint. She'll pay for it. Willingly. Later.

For now, she's going to do whatever she can to protect Clint. Even if she is fairly certain he really is some kind of government spy and can absolutely take care of himself. Somehow, some way, he has found a way past her defenses and has become her family. She doesn't think she deserves him, but that will not stop her from doing everything in her power to prove herself worthy of such an amazing family. She'll do whatever she can to protect him. Whatever the cost.


	2. Chapter Two: Summer

She takes a moment to fumble with the sleeves of her shirt, tugging them down for the fiftieth time to be sure they cover the areas she needs them to cover. The tails are tucked into the skirt she's wearing so that the shirt cannot ride up if she moves too far in one direction or another. The skirt itself is new, just bought for the occasion, and it hangs well below her knees. There is a moment's hesitation as her natural instincts scream at her to return to her own apartment and hide behind the safety of her door. She can hear the sounds of people talking on the other side of Clint's door and there are more people there than she feels she can be comfortable around.

But she hasn't seen Clint in several weeks. And it is his birthday party. There's a bag at her feet loaded with several goodies she's picked up for him. She wants to see his face when he pulls each item out. It would be extremely childish to turn around and go back into her apartment just because there are other people at his party. She can't expect him to be a hermit like she is. Truth be told, she's missed him lately. It shouldn't matter that there are other people there. All that should matter is that Clint wants her to be there. Drawing a breath, Cayleigh picks the bag up with one hand, then makes a fist and knocks on the door with the other. There are a few, short seconds when nothing happens, then she can hear his hand on the knob and the door is opening.

"Cayleigh! I was hoping you'd come," Clint says, smile already on his face. He steps out into the hall so that he can hug her, then draws back and moves aside so that she can enter his apartment. She does so, taking note of the decorations someone has put up. Balloons and streamers in black and purple cling to the ceiling and crowd the corners of the room, and a metallic foil sign saying 'Happy Birthday' in silver is stuck on one wall, over a small pile of gifts. There are maybe a dozen people there and she's pleased that she recognizes a few faces. 

"I couldn't miss your birthday," she replies, offering up the bag she holds. He grins and takes it from her, careful not to peek as he carries it over to add to the pile. Then he's back to wrap her in a warm, friendly hug. There is a feeling of love in the touch and it sinks deep into her bones. She returns the gesture, suddenly very pleased that she didn't let her fear send her back home. "No bruises or scrapes this time. I'm pleased to see that." 

"I don't always get hurt," he remarks casually. She offers him a smile that lets him know she's only teasing. He steps back from her, his gaze raking her from head to toe. She can see a slight change in his eyes as he does so, his focus sharpening on something. Whatever he sees, it almost makes him frown. "You look different. You're wearing your hair down. And your clothes are new. Longer sleeves and skirt hem."

He says it like he knows there's something odd about her choice of clothes. There's almost a hint of accusation in his tone. She brushes that aside and offers him a smile, intent on keeping him from discovering he's once again unnerved her. "I just thought I'd try something new. Style does change from time to time, Clint. Its best not to let yourself stagnate." 

"I like her," a woman says as she passes them by on her way to the kitchen. 

"Of course you do," Clint retorts. The woman shoots a smile over her shoulder before disappearing into the other room. His attention returns fully to her and she feels like he's seeing more than she wants him to. Its a sensation that she's had more than once around him. She learned early on in their friendship that he is very astute and he notices things that other people don't. She isn't surprised that he sees a minute change. Cayleigh forces herself not to squirm. "Sure nothing's wrong?" 

"Everything is fine. You're home. You're not bandaged and bloody. Your friends are all here. Its a good day for a birthday party." One hand motions to the small gathering of people cluttering up his living room. She recognizes most of them. In one corner is Coulson, whose first name is Phil, and Nick Fury, the two of them deep in conversation. By the look on Fury's face, the men are arguing over something like sports scores or the state of the government. Sitting on the couch is Jasper, one hand curled around a beer and the other curled around a video game controller. The image on the screen appears to be paused. Maria and Melinda sit in a couple of arm chairs, a small table between them holding drinks and small plates covered with snacks. They are talking to one another quietly and Cayleigh can see that Melinda is almost smiling. They are all people she's met before, which helps release some of the tension. But there are a few others there that she hasn't met, including the woman from earlier, and that means she's still a little tense.

Speaking of the woman from earlier, she reappears from the kitchen with a bottle of water in hand. When she reaches Clint and Cayleigh, she stops and nudges him with her elbow. "So introduce me. I know you've got manners. Use them." 

"Right." He nods and lifts a hand to motion between the two of them. "Bobbi, this is Cayleigh. Cayleigh, I'd like you to meet Bobbi." 

As introductions go, its pretty sparse. But she can sense that there's more to it than that. Almost before she realizes it, she finds herself digging a little deeper. The fluttering starts immediately, reminding her she isn't supposed to be doing it. Cayleigh forces herself to stop. That doesn't keep her from finding the spot in both of them where the softness they feel for the other person dwells. That softness is warm and familiar. And aged. It takes a little bit of sorting through her impressions and thoughts to figure out why the two are so comfortable around one another. Cayleigh is fairly certain that Bobbi is the woman to whom Clint was once married. She thinks there is something very sweet about the two of them remaining friends.

"I'm pleased to meet you," Cayleigh tells the other woman with a wide smile. This is something she's noticed that she's been doing a great deal of lately. She blames Clint for it, of course, because his smiles are always infectious. And because he seems to go out of his way to make her smile. He's told her more than once that he likes it when she smiles. Bobbi reaches out to shake her hand. Cayleigh puts her in hand in Bobbi's and shakes. 

"So this is Cayleigh," Bobbi says, her attention shifting toward Clint even as she removes her hand from Cayleigh's. Clint grins and nods. "And here I thought you made her up just so I wouldn't feel sorry for you. Color me shocked. Its so lovely to meet you, Cayleigh!" Bobbi exclaims, turning back to where Cayleigh stands. The teasing note she'd used with Clint is gone, replaced by no small amount of curiosity. "Clint's told me so much about you. I honestly feel as if I already know you. Except he didn't tell me how you met." 

"Oh. We're neighbors. I live across the hall." Cayleigh motions behind her in the general direction of the door. She's mildly surprised that Clint would mention her to anyone. In fact, the idea that Clint might actually talk about her with people he knows is so startling to Cayleigh that she accidentally blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "How do you know him?" 

Mortification hits her when she realizes what she's asked. But Clint chuckles and Bobbi's smile gets bigger. "I actually married the idiot," Bobbi replies, confirming Cayleigh's suspicions.

"Hey!" Clint interjects. There's a kind of whine to his voice, but he doesn't actually sound terribly upset by the woman's choice of words. Instead, he glances from Bobbi to Cayleigh and back, then grins and walks off to talk to Phil. Cayleigh watches him go, acutely aware of the woman standing beside her. Clint comes to a stop next to Phil and starts up a conversation, his movements slightly stunted and awkward. 

"Idiot," Bobbi sighs. Cayleigh looks at her out of the corner of her eye. Bobbi must see her because she gives a tight smile and motions toward the two men. "He's got it bad for Phil. But he isn't going to say anything because he figures that Phil is straight and not interested. For a man who claims he can see everything, he sure is blind to the fact that Phil is not very straight at all and most definitely interested." 

Giving her attention back to the two men, Cayleigh watches them interact. Clint's posture is stiffer than she's ever seen it before, as if he's trying to hold himself back. Phil, on the other hand, seems very relaxed and is giving warm smiles that are much broader than his usual ones. They do seem to be behaving differently but she really can't be sure. To be honest, this is the first time she's seen the two of them together in a relaxed setting. Normally, when Phil comes around, its to check up on Clint after he's been injured. Phil is always contained and boxed tight on those occasions.

Here, though, she can sense a subtle difference. It lingers just under the skin of both men, like some kind of pulse. They each seem to have the same pulse, but neither one manages to beat together. Almost, but not quite. There's also a sense of sadness mixed in, but its more distant. She isn't sure if it belongs to one of the two men or someone else completely. The sadness kind of circles the two men, clinging to them like the fine strands of a spider's web. 

If she could dig a little deeper, she might be able to figure out why the two pulses weren't synced up. And she might be able to discover who the sadness belonged to, why it clung to those two men so tightly. That's out of the question, though, because the fluttering starts in earnest. She pulls herself back, resigns herself to using her eyes to gather needed information. 

Phil reaches out to lay a hand on Clint's arm, just at the swell of the bicep. He does it so casually that it appears to be a gesture of friendship. But Cayleigh is sure there's more to it than mere friendship. Phil's eyes hold the softest expression she's ever seen in them and his smile is almost sweet. Bobbi appears to have the right of it. Phil is most definitely emotionally drawn to Clint. And Clint very definitely doesn't see it. Cayleigh sighs and shakes her head. How can the man be so observant and yet miss what's right in front of him? 

"Yes. Definitely an idiot," she agrees with the woman at her side. Bobbi grins at that.

"Since this is a party, let's get you a drink. And maybe a snack of some kind." There's a hint of something in Bobbi's words that suggest what she really wants is a chance to talk to Cayleigh without anyone overhearing them. For a moment, she considers declining the offer, but Bobbi doesn't seem to present any danger. And Cayleigh could use some refreshments. Her throat is still parched from the minor case of nerves from earlier. Nodding, she lets Bobbi lead her into the kitchen and busies herself with choosing a cold drink from the refrigerator. 

That takes all of ten seconds, leaving her to face Bobbi's questions. 

"Clint doesn't usually take to people so quickly," Bobbi starts, throwing Cayleigh off balance for a few moments. She blinks at the other woman as her brain processes that information, wondering why Bobbi has chosen to lead with it. "Don't get me wrong. He puts up a good front. Makes people think he's taking them into his confidence. But he isn't. Not really. Clint has always been pretty careful where new people are concerned." 

"I had no idea," Cayleigh replies, not sure why Bobbi is telling her this. Maybe she plans on giving Cayleigh the friend's version of the shovel talk. Something tells her that Bobbi is very capable of doing damage if she's upset. 

"I'm surprised that he did. There must be something special about you," Bobbi continues. Her gaze lands on Cayleigh's face and there's a weight to it, as if the woman is trying to find what it is that makes Cayleigh that special. After several uncomfortable moments, the gaze relaxes and Bobbi offers her a smile that is soft and slight and tender. "Thank you for that. Most of the people Clint knows, they're all people he works with. Not people he can relax around. So thank you for being his friend. He needs more friends who aren't... them." With the last word, Bobbi motions toward the rest of the people in the apartment.

Cayleigh stares at Clint's profile as he speaks with Jasper, eyes bright and hands animated. There's something truly special about him, but she doesn't mention it to Bobbi. She suspects the woman already knows that anyway. "He picked me." That's what she says instead, earning her a confused look from her companion. 

"He... picked you?" 

Cayleigh takes a sip off her drink before turning back to Bobbi. "Yeah. I was peeking out at the new neighbor because he was so noisy. Clint turned and looked at me and kind of adopted me. He took me to dinner that night, got me to talk to him. I don't have any friends... Well, I didn't have any friends until the day Clint moved in. Now its like having a big brother. An annoying, sometimes goofy, always very over protective big brother. And I kind of like it." 

"Is Clint the only family you have?" Bobbi asks softly. 

Cayleigh wonders how to answer. Clint's asked about her family. Just once. The look she'd given him has kept him from asking about them since. She should tell Bobbi that its none of her business, but she doesn't. There's some part of her that really wants to tell. "My parents are still alive. But we don't speak. They don't approve of my life and how I choose to live it. It used to hurt that they couldn't accept me. It doesn't bother me so much now. I've got Clint."

Bobbi says nothing to that, just smiles and turns to look at the man in question. Cayleigh can sense the lingering affection for him that runs deeper than it would were they merely friends. And she can sense something else. A tiny, newly budding blossom of friendship. She stares at Bobbi a moment or two before deciding that having her as a friend would be an honor.

~*~*~*~*~

It is almost a full two weeks after Clint's birthday that Cayleigh is pulled from a good book by a relentless pounding on her front door. Sighing, she slips a length of ribbon between the pages before closing the book and setting it aside. She's only been home from work for about half an hour, but she isn't expecting anyone tonight. Clint's off doing something for his job and she doesn't expect him for a few more days. When she looks through the peephole, she find Natasha on the other side. Her face is set in the unforgiving lines that Cayleigh remembers from their first meeting, a look she has seen less of as the time has flown by. Seeing it now worries her, prompting her to tug the door open. "What's happened?" 

"Clint's been hurt," Natasha says and turns, starts walking toward Clint's apartment. Cayleigh grabs her key and pulls her door closed, locks it and then follows Natasha over to Clint's place. "Someone needs to sit with him because he's on heavy medication. But everyone who usually does so is busy. You're the only person we know of who can do it." 

Cayleigh closes the door behind her as she steps into the apartment. Natasha is already on her way to his bedroom, leaving her no choice but to follow. When she steps inside of the room, she only vaguely notes that this room is as sleek and modern as the rest of the place. Her main focus is Clint on the bed, tucked under the sheets. His face is pale and there's a bruise coloring his cheek. Because the sheets aren't pulled all the way up, she can see white bandages that start at his shoulder and work their way down under the thin cover. 

Natasha picks up a bag and shoulders it. "I have to go. I have work I have to do." She lays a card on the bedside table, next to the phone. "I've been authorized to leave this for you. Use it to order in meals for yourself. Clint is going to need medication, easy to swallow meals, and help using the facilities. Do not leave him alone longer than it takes to shower or collect clothes and books from your apartment." 

Cayleigh is searching for questions to ask because she knows that there is obviously more she should know. Before anything solidifies, Natasha hands her a legal pad with writing on the top page. As Cayleigh skims it, she sees that she's got care instructions. She drops the pad on the seat of a chair pulled up next to the bed and follows Natasha to the door. "I don't know if I'm the best person to handle this."

"Clint trusts you. That makes you the best qualified." The redhead looks stern and unforgiving, but there's a hint of fear lurking under her shell. She reaches out and puts a hand on Cayleigh's shoulder. "He's going to be loopy and delirious for the first few days. Once you taper the meds off, he'll be more himself. He knows how to tend his wounds. But he won't be able to do that right off the bat. Take good care of him." 

Natasha turns and tugs the door open. "But..." she starts, only to trail off as the other woman gives her a final glance. Then the woman is gone and Cayleigh is left alone with her charge. She closes and locks the door before moving for the kitchen. There's some juice in the fridge, along with milk and bottles of water. Cayleigh pours a glass of juice for Clint and retrieves a bottle of water for herself, and carries them back into the bedroom. Clint is still out, almost unnaturally still on the bed. After picking up the legal pad, she settles into the chair and reads over the instructions written there. 

The instructions look pretty straight forward. The painkillers are pretty strong and are the reason why he can't be left alone. For a moment, Cayleigh wonders why he isn't in a hospital with professionals. It seems that having him near medical personnel would be the wisest course of action. But it isn't her place to question what his employer, whoever it is, does or doesn't do. She'll just do her job and sit with him for as long as she's needed.

Clint sleeps most of that first day, waking up once or twice to eat, drink, and use the bathroom. Feeding him and giving him something to drink is easy. Even groggy and uncoordinated, Clint can position himself so that helping him drink broth or water is easy. Getting him into the bathroom is quite a bit harder. For one thing, he's at least half a foot taller than she is. For another, he is all bulk and muscle. That makes him heavy. And without his normal grace and coordination, she might as well be dragging a dead man through the woods. It takes a while and a lot of shifting around, but Clint takes care of his needs and she gets him back to bed. He tumbles into it almost limply and is asleep before his head even hits the pillow. Cayleigh covers him with the sheet, then settles in to read one of the books she's borrowed from Clint's shelves.

Her evening is quiet and sleep comes quickly. After using the card left by Natasha to order food, Cayleigh makes herself a pallet on the floor with a few spare blankets, a pillow off Clint's couch, and a sheet for cover. The stress of worry and the boredom combine to see her seeking slumber at an early hour. But it doesn't last long because sometime in the middle of the night, a faint sound drags her to sudden wakefulness and she's hurrying over to the bed before she even fully acknowledges the sounds she's hearing are coming from Clint.

She settles on the edge of the bed and rests the back of her hand against his forehead. Its warm, but not overly so. It feels like a mild fever, which the instructions say is expected. She just has to ensure that it doesn't get too high. She lifts her hand away from his forehead, intent on heading for the bathroom to fetch a cloth dampened with cool water, but his fingers wrap around her wrist and hold her in place. "I'm sorry, Momma. I tried to make him stop. I really did," Clint says, eyes open and bright. She freezes a moment unsure what's brought this on, and she's hit with a mild panic that the fever is worse than she believes. The panic clears when she recalls that the painkillers he's on can cause delirium. 

"Its okay, Clint," she soothes, hoping that he'll recognize her voice. He doesn't, his gaze hazy and unfocused with memory. "Everything's okay now." 

"I won't ever let him hit you again," he vows. His voice is that of a tiny, frightened child, and she tries again to soothe him. This time, with her fingers pressed gently to his cheek, the pain of old memories bubble to the surface and she feels the same fear that young Clint must have felt. It feels like she could drown under the weight of his memories. Cayleigh learns the feel of those memories inside and out. Hatred and fear. Pain. Confusion. And as she struggles against the press of his life, there's a writhing under her skin that scares her. The only way she can get away from it is to focus on Clint's feverish muttering. 

The writhing subsides and the fear ebbs. And the minute she understands what he's saying, she wishes she'd allowed herself to be consumed. His childhood sounds like it was an absolute horror. An alcoholic father who used his wife and children as punching bags. A car accident that left young Clint and his older brother orphans. Life in an orphanage. Running away to the circus. Suffering more abuse at the hands of people he'd thought he could trust. Hearing about his youth, confronted with the sorrows of his life, she wonders at the man she knows because it seems he's taken great pains to prevent bitterness from shaping who he's become. Instead, he's done his best to make his life one of happiness. 

"Don't worry about it. Just go to sleep," she says softly, brushing a few strands of hair away from his face. He sighs and turns into her hand.

"I won't ever let him hit you again." He makes the promise a second time.

"I know you won't," she whispers. There's a soft smile on his face at her words, then it fades and he drifts back toward slumber. Cayleigh spends the rest of the night in the chair, Clint's hand clasped tightly in hers.

~*~

"I suck. I suck so hard. I just suck." Clint's rambling sees Cayleigh lifting her head from her book to find him watching her intently. She considers his words a moment and decides that they're more the product of the drugs than they are of the fever. The fever that seems to be gone completely, something for which she is eternally thankful. Setting her book down, she reaches out to take his hand and hold it in hers. Something she's done quite a bit of in the past twelve hours. 

"What do you suck at, Clint?" she asks him, voice soft and coaxing. 

"Relationships. I fucked everything up with Bobbi. Bad things happened and I didn't understand. And I fucked that up." There is a good deal of regret in his voice. She strokes her thumb over the back of his hand and offers him a smile. 

"She still cares about you, Clint. She's still your friend and she still loves you. I know that might not be what you want, but its better than having her hate you," Cayleigh soothes. 

"Bobbi's awesome," he replies. His eyes close for a few moments and she thinks that he's going to drift off again. But he swallows hard and looks at her with such an intense stare that she feels he can see right through her. She can feel a great deal of turmoil roiling under his skin, a testament to how confused he is at the moment. She's never felt him like this before, with such a loss of his emotional control. The drugs have obviously loosened more than just his tongue. 

"She is. You shouldn't kick yourself because it didn't work out." 

Clint gives her a look, like he can't believe she just said that. Then he rolls his eyes in the most exaggerated way. It makes him look like he's five years old. "Not Bobbi. I'm okay with how things went with Bobbi. I'm talking about Phil. I'm bad at Phil." 

Cayleigh blinks at that. "You're bad at Phil?" He gives her a look that says she can't be that dense. And she's not, but she's never heard it said that way before. His words have thrown her for just a moment. 

"Yup. Bad at Phil. Bad at Nick. Bad at Bobbi. Bad at relationships." 

She takes a moment to parse everything he's just said because she doesn't want him to give her that look again. But she stops on the 'bad at Nick' part. Something about that sentence feels like it should fit into the whole statement, but she can't place how. Until she recalls the sensation of two pulses beating slightly out of sync. Until her subconscious brings up a third pulse, much fainter than Phil's and Clint's. Memory recalls noting that third pulse, as well as noting how it was almost in sync with the other two. Now she understands why their pulses didn't beat together the day of his birthday party. "How are you bad at Phil?" she asks, deciding to take it in stages.

"I wanna tell him that I'd like nothing more than to rip his suit off and fuck him into my mattress. But I don't know how." Clint says it like she should know that already.

"Maybe you should just tell him you want to rip his suit off and fuck him into your mattress?" she suggests. Clint frowns at her, as if she's just made a very terrible suggestion.

"I can't do that. I can't just... tell him. Besides. If I do that and we end up in a relationship, which I'm bad at, by the way. Did I mention that? I'm bad at relationships. But if I get into one with Phil, where does that leave Nick?" 

"I don't know, Clint. Where would that leave Nick? Does Nick know that you want to rip his clothes off and fuck him into your mattress?" 

"Of course he doesn't! That would fuck everything up." Clint pauses and stares at her, but she gets the feeling he isn't really seeing her. She suspects he's thinking things out. So she remains quiet and waits for him to speak again. "It isn't fair, Cayleigh. I want them. Both of them. But it feels like I can't have either one. I don't know what I should do." 

"Maybe you should stop being an idiot and go for both of them," she suggests lightly. Clint stares up at her, eyes round as saucers, as if this is something that's never even occurred to him. And then his face takes on the shrewd look it always gets when he's putting things together in his head, slotting them into place to make a larger picture. 

"You think I stand a chance?" he asks quietly. 

"Clint, you'll never know until you try," she reminds him patiently.

"But I work with them. What if I fuck it up?"

"You're still friends with Bobbi, right? You can be around her without any problems, right?" He nods in answer to her questions, the grip of his hand in hers starting to go lax. The drugs are pulling him back under so she needs to make it fast. "Then you can test the waters with Phil and see if that would work. You can test the waters with Nick and see if that would work. You can maintain a professional attitude if you have to. Just man up and ask one of them out. Or ask them both out. Or, hell. Ask them into your bed together and have a threeway. Just do something and don't pine for them. If you don't, you'll regret it for the rest of your life." 

She normally doesn't give people advice on their love lives, but what the hell? It isn't as if Clint will remember their conversation. She might as well make it good.

Clint considers her words for a moment or two, then gives a yawn that ends in a soft smile. "Thanks, Cayleigh. You're a good friend. Even if I am dreaming that you're here in Varna with me. Damn mission's taking too long." 

The rest of his words trail off into a string of incomprehensible muttering as he drifts back to sleep. Cayleigh considers the last of them briefly, then pushes them aside. She doesn't need to know what kind of mission Clint was on and why it had taken him to Bulgaria. 

After tugging her hand from his, she picks up her book once again and settles in to continue her reading. Maybe he really is James Bond...


	3. Chapter Three: Fall

Cayleigh is hunched over her desk, going over a few proposals being prepared for clients at the request of her boss, when a shadow falls over her. She can hear the faint whispers of those around her and, for a moment, is taken by a sense of dread. Then she senses the warmth and strength that comes off the person standing over her and she smiles. The pen is dropped, forgotten, so that she can turn and look up at him. Clint is smiling, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and he looks exactly the way he looked when he left four days ago. She smiles at him in return, rises from her chair, and embraces him in a hug. He squeezes back with the same amount of enthusiasm that she puts into her hug.

"What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn't be home for at least another week?" she asks as she pulls back. She pretends she doesn't see the looks being thrown at her by her coworkers. 

"Work wrapped up early. So I thought I'd drop by and surprise you. Maybe take you to lunch," he replies easily. 

"Well, I'm certainly surprised. And lunch would be wonderful," she tells him, already reaching for her phone. "Let me just inform my boss and then we can be on our way." He nods and takes a step back, giving her a bit of space to make her call. She's terribly aware of him behind her as she dials the extension for her boss' office and informs him that she's going to take her lunch. She's also terribly aware of the looks she's getting from the people around her. In the entire time she's worked at the agency, she's never once had a visitor show up. She can only imagine what they're all thinking. 

After ending her call and hanging up the receiver, she gathers up her coat and collects her purse from one of her desk drawers. Clint helps her into the coat without saying a word, then puts his hand on her back and escorts her to the elevators. Dozens of sets of watchful eyes follow their progression. As they're passing by Tina Jenkins' desk, the biggest gossip in the office, the woman can't let the moment go without making a comment. "Wow, Cayleigh! Where did you find him? He's such a hunk. You'll have to tell me how you landed such a handsome boyfriend." 

Her words make Cayleigh stumble because she can hear the implications hidden in them. Clint must hear them, too, because his hand moves to draw her closer to him. Then he turns a look on Tina that isn't exactly a full smile but isn't quite a frown. There's something dark in his eyes that makes the woman shrink back in her chair. Just a little. "She smiled at me." Cayleigh notices that he doesn't correct her assumption about their relationship. She also notices that his response, while simple, implies that Cayleigh's smile is enough on its own to draw someone to her and that he's sure such a thing isn't possible for the other woman. Tina gapes at him a moment, mouth hanging open as she processes what Clint is and isn't saying. Clint's smile turns a touch more predatory. "Ma'am." 

Cayleigh doesn't say anything until they step into the elevator, where they're thankfully alone, and the doors slide shut. "You're the first person I've seen who has been able to put that look on Tina's face. I don't know if I should be frightened or overjoyed." 

"She's jealous and petty. It doesn't take much to see that," Clint shrugs and pulls Cayleigh into a one armed hug. It has a very brother and sister kind of feel to it. "I just reminded her that people around her see her for what she is. Even complete strangers." 

Again, she notices that there's a world of things he isn't saying. She decides not to examine those things too closely and instead allows herself to enjoy the pleasure of his company. "Where are we going for lunch?"

"I haven't picked a place out yet. I thought we'd know the spot when we saw it." Clint sounds vague enough but when she glances at him, she can see he's wearing his devil-may-care smile that says he's teasing her. She elbows him gently, earning a soft 'oof' that she knows is totally fake. She knows that he's much tougher than that. Still, his silliness puts a smile on her face and helps her forget all about the encounter with Tina.

~*~

They end up at a place that sells a little bit of everything. Clint gets himself a couple slices of New York style pizza. Each one is topped with four kinds of meats and four kinds of vegetables. He's also gotten himself a side of cheese sticks. His excuse to her when she gives him a look is that he's homesick for Iowa. She doesn't buy it for a second. For herself, she orders a burger with bacon, cheese, mushrooms, and onions piled on top of it, along with a side of fresh fries. As a drink she's ordered herself some root beer and she sips it absently through the straw while waiting for her meal. 

"Aren't you hot?" he asks her suddenly. Cayleigh knows a moment of panic, afraid he knows something he shouldn't. But she shoves the panic down and looks him in the eye. She sees nothing there but curiosity and holds on to her sigh of relief. She also fights the urge to tug her long sleeves down. She wishes, not for the first time, that she didn't have to keep herself covered, but to wear short sleeves, like Clint does, would only bring about questions she isn't sure she can answer.

"I'm okay." It isn't really a lie but it isn't really the truth. She is kind of hot. But she's used to keeping herself, and her secrets, covered up. Shrugging one shoulder, Cayleigh hits him with a bright smile that she knows doesn't fool him at all. She's sure that he's going over the way her wardrobe has changed since their first meeting, how everything she wears has gotten progressively longer and longer, and he's got to wonder why that is. But he respects her enough to not press the issue. It is something she deeply appreciates.

"Uh-huh." There are unspoken words in that brief statement. He _knows_ that something is going on, but he can't put his finger on what that something is. "So, I had a couple of reasons for asking you to lunch today." 

"Oh, I see how you are. You're just full of ulterior motives," she replies with mock seriousness. Clint grins at that and takes a drink of his bottled water. 

"Always. Glad to know you've got me figured out finally." He's teasing her, something he seems to take great joy in doing. And, secretly, Cayleigh loves it. She takes it as a sign of their friendship and the closeness they've developed over the months that have passed. He really is like a brother to her and she doesn't understand what she's done to earn that kind of relationship with anyone. A waitress delivers the cheese sticks and Clint scoops one up as soon as she sets them on the table. "The first is to tell you that I made a big step in my personal life." 

"Oh?" Cayleigh is curious at this announcement. He's never made mention of his personal life beyond the delirious ramblings she'd heard when he'd been on those strong pain pills. And he's never said anything about those unwilling admissions. Her theory is he doesn't remember that happening and she's been kind enough to never bring them up. Something tells her that he'd be embarrassed if she mentions it to him. "What kind of big step?" 

He opens his mouth to speak, then pauses so that he can flick his gaze around at the people around them in the dining room. When it appears that no one is paying attention, he gives her a quick smile. "I... made a move on Coulson. Phil." 

It takes her a second to parse his words, but his meaning becomes clear almost immediately. She can't hide her smile. It looks like there's a faint hint of a blush staining his cheeks and she decides he needs a minute before he continues. So she watches as he picks up a second cheese stick and nibbles at it, obviously working up the courage to go on. When it starts to feel like he isn't going to say anything else, she kicks out with one foot. Her toes connect sharply with his shin and he gives a soft yelp. "And? What happened? Are you doing this to me intentionally?" 

His grin lets her know that he is, in fact, doing it to her intentionally. "He welcomed it. He might have said something along the lines of it being about time. We're going out on Friday. Nothing special, though. Just a night at the movies and maybe something to eat." 

"A first date kind of date," she replies with a grin. Their waitress approaches with their plates, prompting them to keep any further words to themselves until she delivers his pizza and her burger. The woman checks to see if they need anything else, then hurries off to deal with another table. Cayleigh nudges Clint under the table with her foot. "It sounds like a good time. How do you feel about it? I mean, it feels right and everything?" 

"Oh, yeah. It definitely feels right. To be honest, I've been trying to work up the nerve to ask him out for a while now," he tells her before taking a bite of his pizza. "I've just been kind of leery because we work together and we're friends first. I didn't want to put that friendship in jeopardy by making assumptions and then putting him in a difficult position." 

Cayleigh grins and bites the end off a fry. "Are you sure about that? I would have thought you'd be good at those difficult positions." 

Her words see him pause a moment, his gaze locked to her face. A grin splits his face and he throws his head back and laughs. "I have to admit, I am pretty flexible," he says eventually, soft chuckles still bubbling up his throat. His foot nudges her under the table. "That was good. And absolutely unexpected. Don't tell me I've been a bad influence on you." 

"Okay. I won't tell you." Cayleigh gives him a smug grin and munches down the remainder of the fry she's holding. Clint chuckles again.

"Who knew you were hiding a smart ass under those long sleeved shirts and long pants? I never saw a hint of that when you were wearing t-shirts and skirts." 

Its a subtle attempt to pry information from her. He really wants to know why her sleeves are getting longer every day. She only smiles at him and plucks a runaway mushroom from her plate, then pops it into her mouth. "Honey, you were never looking at my ass to determine whether or not it was smart. There is a lot you don't know about me." 

Clint snorts at her response, grinning at the easy back and forth between them. Cayleigh sits back in her chair and looks him over, checking to be sure that everything is kosher. A quick peek tells her that he feels right. Her smile becomes something much more tender. "I'm glad you're happy, Clint. You deserve it." 

Her words prompt him to send a rare, serious look her way. "So do you, Cayleigh. But you never talk about anyone. Did your last girlfriend do such a number on you that you're afraid to try again?" When she doesn't answer right away, he leans forward and puts his hand on hers. There is sympathy in his touch and she suddenly feels like shit because she can't tell him the truth. She's found that she hates lying to him.

"Relationships aren't for me, Clint. I'm mostly content with my life as it is. I've got you for a friend. And a big brother. Girl couldn't ask for more." Its as honest as she can get with him. If her smile comes off as forced, Clint is nice enough not to say anything about it. Instead, his grip on her hand tightens up just a little bit, then he lets go and sits back. The motion tells her that he isn't going to pry any further without her consent and a swell of relief fills her. "Besides, we aren't here to talk about my love life. I believe we're supposed to be talking about yours." 

"And I told you that I finally asked Phil out. What more do you want?" he asks as he reaches for his pizza again. 

"What about Nick?" she asks point blank. Clint stares at her for a few second while the question sinks in, then he huffs out a sigh and sits back hard in his chair. The dazed look on his face suggests he'd make a terrible poker player because he's giving away everything. 

"How'd you know about Nick?" he asks, then frowns and shakes his head. She suspects he's just realized, too late, that he could have denied the question. But its too late and he's in it deep. Cayleigh offers him a knowing smile. 

"I have my ways, Clint. Mysterious ways. Magical ways."

He stares a moment longer, then mutters a curse under his breath. "Shit. Just how much did I spill that night?" 

She softens her smile and reaches out to put her hand over his. "You didn't give away state secrets, if that's what you're asking. You just mentioned having deep emotions for both Phil and Nick. I think you should go for it with both of them." 

Clint stares at her, eyes wide with disbelief. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. I couldn't even begin to consider that. I've only just convinced Phil he wants to date me. It would be rude to start hitting on Nick. Who happens to be my boss, by the way. And what would Phil think about it?" 

Cayleigh considers what she knows and then considers telling him. But she can tell he won't listen to her without asking how she knows and she isn't ready to get into that. There's too much to explain and she isn't sure that Clint will believe her, even if she does offer him proof. So she just gives him a mysterious smile. "I suspect Phil will think its pretty fucking awesome. But don't take my word for it. Ask him." 

~*~*~*~

"Why the hell are we at a bowling alley?" Bobbi asks as she shucks off her sneakers in order to slide her feet into the loud bowling shoes the clerk had handed her. Clint is busy with his own pair so he studiously avoids looking at her. A glance to her side shows Cayleigh that Natasha has already gotten her shoes on, as has Phil. She's noticed that they're always quick and neat. Precise. Clint has areas where he's neater and quicker than others. Putting his bowling shoes on appears to not be one of them. "Clint. Seriously. Couldn't you have picked some place nicer than a bowling alley?" 

"I wanted something we could do as a group," Clint replies, lifting his head from his freshly tied shoes. "I don't want anyone to think I'm ignoring them because of my relationship with Phil. Besides, this was kind of Phil's idea." 

Bobbi turns to look at Phil. He's sitting in one of the chairs, waiting patiently for the game to begin. The smile on his face, though not very wide, is honest and genuine. He nods his head at her silent question, hands smoothing over his thighs in what Cayleigh thinks might be a nervous gesture. A quick check tells her that he does have some nervousness going on, leading her to believe that the reasons behind asking everyone is because he wants a buffer. Surely he isn't so uncertain of his relationship with Clint that he's afraid to be alone with the other man?

She might have dug deeper, but the fluttering starts, telling her its time to shut it down. She does so with a little bit of difficulty, but the touch of Phil's feelings slowly slips away and with that touch goes the last of the fluttering. Sitting back, Cayleigh lets her gaze slide around the small group of people. Natasha is calm and ready to go. Bobbi is making sure her bowling shoes fit her feet properly by walking around and stomping a little. Clint is feeding their names into the computer for score keeping. No one seems to want to be the first to break the awkwardness of the situation. Fine. Cayleigh draws a breath to fortify herself, then gets to her feet. She'll do it. 

"Maybe we should play guys against the girls?" she suggests. Everyone turns their attention her way. Clint and Phil both look thankful for the interruption. Odd that they don't want to be alone when they've been seeing each other for a while now. "I mean, if we're going to be here, occupying a lane or two, we should make it fun. Guys against the girls. And whichever one of us bowls the worst first frame, that person has to buy drinks and snacks for everyone else. What do you say? It could be fun."

She watches as the other four share looks amongst one another. There is much shrugging and lifting of eyebrows in what she figures to be the silent version of 'Why not?' before they all look at her and give nods in answer to her question. "I think this is an excellent idea, Cayleigh," Bobbi says with a smirk. "You two are going to have your asses handed to you." 

"Do you honestly think that's going to happen, Bobbi?" Phil asks lightly. His gaze flicks to Clint, which clearly means something. Something that apparently both Bobbi and Natasha understand. Cayleigh doesn't know what it means but she's distracted from asking why by the throaty sound of Natasha's laughter. The woman's mirth draws her attention and she finds herself staring. 

From the very first moment she laid eyes on Natasha, Cayleigh has found her to be beautiful. Dark, lush red hair and a fit figure. Curves that she can't hide. A mostly serious nature. Deep intelligence. Bright green eyes that see everything. She is strong in ways Cayleigh can't name and she's a loyal friend to Clint. Much of the same can be said for Bobbi, who is only slightly taller than Natasha. Bobbi, with her golden blond hair and crystal blue eyes. Who has a physically fit body and a burning intelligence. Who has been married to Clint and is fiercely loyal to him, despite their having split up. They are very similar women. And seeing them side by side, standing with Clint, leaves her wondering, not for the first time, what it is that made Clint pick her.

She knows she isn't beautiful. She's been told a time or two that she's attractive, but she isn't in the same league as Bobbi or Natasha. Her hair is some shade of brown and it doesn't do much but hang around her shoulders. Her eyes are brown, as well, rather dark and unremarkable. She's short and really kind of frumpy. Exactly the opposite of these two women who obviously hold special places in Clint's life. So she doesn't understand why Clint chose her. What made him pick her? 

"I've got a hundred dollars that says we beat you." The certainty in Natasha's voice pulls Cayleigh away from her thoughts to find that Clint is busy trying out balls. Bobbi is stretching her arms and legs, grin a mile wide on her face as she does so. Once again, Phil's gaze flicks to where Clint stands, then back to Natasha. He gives her a smile that is filled with some emotion she can't immediately name. 

"You're on," he returns. Cayleigh realizes then that the smile he's wearing is one of intense confidence, suggesting that there's something going on she doesn't know about.

"Let's get this game going," Clint breaks in, a vivid purple ball in hand. Phil nods and heads over to the racks of balls to pick his own. Like his suits, it is black and plain. Natasha studies her choices and finally lifts a fiery red one off the rack. Bobbi finds a blue one that she likes. Cayleigh finds herself a good fit in green. It reminds her of an old forest and its dark emerald leaves from long ago. She shakes the memory off and returns to the group. 

"Who goes first?" she asks, glancing at each of them. 

"We'll be gentlemen and let you ladies go first," Clint grins. Bobbi and Natasha eye him for a moment, then grin and turn to look at her. 

"Cayleigh goes first. Then I'll go. And Natasha will bring up the rear," Bobbi announces, then nudges Cayleigh toward the lane the three of them will be bowling on. She sighs and moves to take her place, drawing a deep breath to center herself. A faint hum fills her and she steps forward, swings the ball back. Brings it forward and releases it. It rolls quickly and steadily down the center of the lane. The ball hits the center pin and drives through, taking the rest of the pins with it. She turns to find Bobbi and Natasha grinning at her. Clint looks only mildly put out. And Phil looks... speculative. As if he's just noticed for the first time something he's been looking right at the whole time. 

By the time all five of them have taken their turn, the tension is rolling away in friendly teasing and laughter. Clint has come out on the bottom, having bowled a seven-ten split. He mutters to himself about missing, but goes to the concession stand to pick up snacks and drinks for everyone. Phil goes with him, to help carry the beverages, he claims. But the bowling alley is not very busy and so they all see it when Phil steals a kiss from Clint and soothes his much battered ego with softly spoken words. 

"Its about goddamn time," Bobbi says from behind Cayleigh. Natasha says something in Russian that Cayleigh doesn't understand. But she gets the tone well enough. Natasha agrees with Bobbi. Cayleigh lets a little of herself go and catches the near synchronous sound of their hearts beating together. They're still missing the last part of themselves. Cayleigh absently pulls back just as the rustling starts once again and tugs the sleeves of her shirt down. Just in case. 

It takes Clint and Phil much longer than it should to return with the snacks and drinks. No one mentions it to them. In fact, they pretend to not have noticed the way the two men touch one another. Small, intimate touches that speak of their deep emotional bond. They're still in the first blush of their relationship, where quick brushes of fingers happen with great frequency. Cayleigh is sure that this is a huge thing for both men, that neither one are particularly demonstrative where more tender feelings are involved.

"I cannot believe I bowled the worst frame!" Clint exclaims as he and Phil step down into the gaming area. Bobbi snickers and Natasha's lips twitch upward into a broad smile. Even Phil chuckles a little bit at the indignant tone Clint uses. Again, Cayleigh feels as if she's missing something. Before she can chase that question down an unknown path, Phil is handing her a paper cup filled with the Coke she requested. If anyone thinks it odd that she didn't order a drink with alcohol in it, they are kind enough to not give voice to those thoughts. Cayleigh rarely drinks anything that can impair her ability to function. She made that mistake once. She'll never do it again. 

Clint delivers her order of cheese sticks and tosses a wink her way. She wonders briefly if he intentionally lost that frame. If he did, what purpose did it serve? Then she sees how he stops and lingers by Phil as he sets a tray of nachos down by their drinks. Their hands touch in a quick brush of skin against skin and the air around them thrums with hunger and need. Cayleigh frowns at how easy it is for her to forget herself and go looking. She really needs to stop but she can't seem to help herself. Clint is family in a way her own blood never was. She wants him to be happy. And she wants to be sure that Phil really does make him happy.

They all take a few moments to sip at their drinks and nibble at their snacks. Bobbi and Natasha are sharing onion rings and chicken strips, both with icy cold beer in frosted mugs. Clint has sliders and Phil, surprisingly, has Buffalo wings. As messy as they are, he doesn't get a drop on his clothing. She feels strongly that its some kind of magic. She can't tell if Phil's drink is mixed or if he's drinking pop. Clint, she knows, is drinking a root beer. 

The lack of people around makes their night slow and easy and they take their time getting back up to bowl the next frame. Its easy to feel the sense of camaraderie and companionship between them all. It takes Cayleigh a moment to realize that she's very much a part of that sensation. She takes time to study each member of the party, using her eyes and other senses to observe them. Bobbi smiles and laughs with gusto, teases Clint with a warm grin and a twinkle in her eye. Natasha is not quite as serious as when Cayleigh had first met her. Her smiles aren't quite as broad as Bobbi's, but they're still filled with warmth and love. Clint's grins are as broad as ever, his laughter light and flowing. And Phil is relaxed in a way he never has been before. His smiles aren't broad and bright like Clint's. They're more secretive and harder to come by, but all the more honest for their rarity. 

There's a natural energy flowing between all of them that is warm and elastic. Cayleigh wonders when and how she was added into this odd little family. And she's thankful for it. Her relationship with Clint has proven to her how painful and selfish cutting herself off from people has been. Best interests or not, she's starting to see that she can't lock her own heart away in a box and pretend that it doesn't matter. 

They get serious about their game after they've finished off their snacks. Clint has remarkable aim and soon starts making amends for his poor showing on the first frame. Cayleigh feels her cares slip away in the smooth motion of swinging her arm back and forth and then releasing the ball. Bobbi and Natasha call out encouragement when its her turn to bowl, and they do their best to distract Clint when its his turn. Nearly every frame he bowls after the first is a strike, and it leaves Cayleigh surprised. No one is that good without some kind of help. 

The chime of a phone ringing brings the trash talk and laughter to silence and they all turn to see Phil pulling his phone from his pocket. He glances at the screen before answering, any sign of enjoyment of the evening disappearing in the blink of an eye. "Sir?" he asks quietly. 

"Damn it. Its Fury," Bobbi mutters. Cayleigh sees the way everyone reacts to that pronouncement and again feels as if she's missing something. 

"No, Nick. You're not interrupting anything. We were just out bowling. Yes, I'm serious!" Phil says after a few seconds of silence. His eyes lift and dart from one face to the next, landing last on Clint. "Actually, Bobbi and Natasha are here, too. And so is Cayleigh." 

Bobbi gives Phil a puzzled look and Natasha goes back to nibbling at a cold chicken strip. Clint looks slightly on edge, his shoulders tight and fingers curled into loose fists. As if he expects bad news. "Yes. Clint's here, too. We're bowling men against women," Phil says. He's silent for a few moments, then the expression on his face relaxes and he smiles. "Well, you can come down here and join us, if you're bored and have nothing else to do. We can always use a third to make the teams even. These women are ruthless." 

Cayleigh sees Clint's hands spasm. Ever so slightly before he can catch himself. And then she's suddenly aware of his inner turmoil and she realizes that he still hasn't done anything about his feelings for Nick. She wonders if he's at least mentioned them to Phil. For a moment, his body language suggests that he hasn't done anything of the sort. Then she sees the look in Phil's eyes and the soft smile on his lips and she realizes that Clint has, in fact, talked to Phil about his feelings for Nick. Curious. 

A few moments later, Phil is giving Nick their location. The air is thick with tension and all of it is coming from Clint. Cayleigh looks over at Natasha and Bobbi to see if they're picking up the change in Clint. Both of them are watching him closely, their gazes meeting occasionally in a silent conversation that tells Cayleigh they know exactly what's going on with Clint. Then Phil is tucking the phone away and Clint's shoulders go even tighter than before. Something Cayleigh hadn't thought possible. 

The silence hangs over them for a few long moments as Phil waits for someone to say something. Clint is studiously ignoring the opening. Bobbi and Natasha look like they both want to ask the pertinent questions but are holding one another back. Cayleigh gets the sense that this kind of thing will go on all night if someone doesn't speak up. So she takes a drink of her Coke and clears her throat. "So? Is Mr. Fury going to join us?" she asks brightly. 

Phil shoots her a look that's filled with gratitude and the smile he gives is yet another one she's never seen before. "Yes. Nick will be joining us. Looks like we've got ourselves our third, Clint." 

There's a well of meaning in those words and Clint doesn't miss it at all. The tension runs out of him and leaves him kind of limp in his seat. But his smile is back and its as wide as she's ever seen it. Well, the rest of the night should prove to be very interesting.


	4. Chapter Four: Winter

Clint is settled on the plush love seat Cayleigh has in her living room, his drink resting on a coaster on the glass coffee table. Beside it is his empty dinner plate. He watches her from where he's sitting with a content look on his face. The same sense of contentment rolls off him in waves. He looks very at ease, despite being slightly out of place in her terribly feminine living room. "Thanks for dinner. It was a good send off," Clint tells her. She blinks at that.

"I wasn't aware you were leaving," she says evenly. The odd hours have settled some recently, leaving him home more often than he's gone. She's gotten used to seeing him day in and day out. Just as she's gotten used to him not being hurt. He shrugs a shoulder and casts his gaze to the far wall where a large oil painting of an ancient forest resides. She can tell he's looking for the kindest answer, which means he's known about it for some time. 

"Yeah. Work is sending me to New Mexico," he replies. This is the first time he's ever given the name of his destination to her. Either he's lying or there's much more to it than just going to New Mexico. 

"How long will you be gone?" she questions. Something feels off about this and she finds that she isn't very hungry anymore. Leaning forward, she sets her plate down on the coffee table and replaces it with her glass of water. Her hands play with the tumbler idly as she waits for him to answer. 

"I honestly don't know. Its a pretty strange situation and there's no way of telling how its going to go. I'm just going in for back up, but..." He shrugs and its more than he's ever told her of his job before. She ponders what it all means. 

"Want me to keep an eye on your apartment for you? Or will Phil being looking after it?" Phil has become something of a permanent resident there lately. Cayleigh has seen the bags of clothes and other items being carried in. Phil seems to spend more time there than she thinks he spends anywhere else. She's also seen Nick show up with a bag or two, suggesting that he spends nights with the two of them. He doesn't actually live there, but he definitely splits his time between Clint's apartment and his own home.

"Phil's going to be going to New Mexico, too," Clint tells her. That's odd. She's always gotten the sense that Phil is little more than some paper pusher. Of course, he's good at making people see what he wants them to see. He gives the appearance of being harmless, but Cayleigh is sure that he's a very dangerous man. Apparently, Phil does more than push paper across desks. 

"I see. So I'm watching out for the apartment while you're gone. I can handle that. Maybe I'll even buy you a green plant so that there's something living there when you get back," she teases lightly. 

"I'd like that," he replies. He suddenly seems pensive and she wonders what's brought this on. Cayleigh gets up and moves to take a seat on the love seat beside him. When she puts her hand on his arm, he turns to look at her. 

"Clint, what's wrong?" she asks softly. The contentment she sensed on him earlier is gone and now he seems to be out of sorts. Its a sudden change and it worries her. 

"My life is finally going right. For once. I mean, I've got what I want," he tells her, then pauses and considers what he's going to say next. "I've got Phil and I've got Nick and life is good with both of them." 

"I've noticed. The three of you seem like a really good fit. There's a sense of... completion that surrounds the three of you." Her words see him relax, but only minutely. "Are you worried that you're going to mess that up? Or that something is going to happen?" 

He gives her a soft laugh. "In our line of work, something can always happen." He pauses and reaches out to take her hand in his. "Things are going good. Not only do I have Nick and Phil, but I've got Natasha and Bobbi. And you. You help make my life complete. You're like a sister to me. You know that, right?" 

There's an earnestness in his words that tugs at her heart. She squeezes the hand that holds hers and gives him a smile. "And you're like the big brother that I never had. You're the best family a girl could ask for." 

He nods, as if pleased to hear those words. As if he'd believed that she'd say anything but those words. But there's a somber look in his eyes. And she can feel a cloud of something clinging to him. "I've got a bad feeling about things, Cayleigh. But I can't put my finger on what's going to happen. All I know is that my instincts are telling me to grab everyone and run the other way. I don't know what to do." 

"What are you talking about?" she asks him. She's never seen him like this before, not even the time he was on those super strong painkillers. 

"I can't explain. There isn't a lot I can tell you. And, shit, you don't know how badly I want to tell you things. But there are rules and I just can't. But I've got these instincts and I've learned not to ignore them when they start telling me things like this. All I know is that things feel off." He stops and gives her a hard look. "Something bad is going to happen."

Cayleigh doesn't even stop herself from trying to get a sense of what he's feeling. It doesn't matter that there's a rustling and tingling under her skin, a silent warning that she's using too much. Going too far. But she doesn't really care because she's truly, deeply concerned about Clint. And for all she tries, she can't really _sense_ anything. The one time she actually needs to really know, its blind to her. Frustration bubbles up under her skin and it takes all of her energy to push it down, to force herself to think rationally. His worry is infectious and the last thing she needs to do is feed it with her own. 

"Don't you think you're borrowing trouble here, Clint?" she asks carefully, trying to keep anything out of her voice that makes him think she's only humoring him. He stares at her, eyes intent and focused. Like he's looking deep inside of her. Like he can actually see to the very depths of her soul. He knows there's something going on with her. He's hinted at knowing before. He doesn't know what, but he knows. And its there to see in his gaze as he holds her hand and frowns and considers.

"Trouble follows me everywhere I go, Cayleigh. Haven't you learned that yet?" he asks. There is nothing but self-deprecation in his voice. He honestly believes it. It makes her heart ache for him and she tugs him close so she can wrap her arms around him. She doesn't believe it for a minute. But its obvious that he does. And she can tell by his tone that she won't change his mind. So she just hugs him close and offers up silent prayers that whatever feeling he has is wrong. Clint's arms are strong around her, clinging to her as if she's his anchor in a raging storm.

"I think you're exaggerating, Clint. I really do. And I think you shouldn't go looking for trouble where there isn't any," she tells him brightly when she pulls back. His hands linger on her arms, as if he's loathe to let her go just yet. She says nothing about that, just watches his face. Nothing in it changes, so she reaches up and takes hold of his hand once more. "What's going to come is going to come, whether we want it to or not. The only thing we can do when it does is accept it and go on with our lives or refuse it and rant about it for the rest of our days. You can't change your fate, Clint." 

Her words make him frown and he squeezes her hand with his own. "I've never heard you sound so fatalistic before. I didn't think you believed in stuff like that." 

"There is a lot you don't know about me, Clint. Not because you haven't tried to discover it all but because I choose to keep it from you. And everyone. Because there are things we all have inside of us that we don't want to give to someone else. Having power over another person is a terrible burden. And its dangerous. I don't trust many people. You're one of the few that I do. But I don't trust you enough to give you that kind of power over me." 

He studies her for a long time, eyes just as intent as they were before. No doubt he's taken note of the tone of her voice as much as her words. Then he's the one pulling her into an embrace after pressing a gentle kiss to the center of her forehead. "Jesus Christ, Cayleigh. They hurt you bad, didn't they?" 

She doesn't answer, because she doesn't know how to and can't explain it to him. Just lets him think this is because of a person. And it does more to draw him away from his dark thoughts than anything she has told him. That's fine by her. When he pulls back, he stares her straight in the eyes and the look he's wearing is deadly serious. "If you ever trust me enough, you tell me who it is and I'll make sure they regret ever hurting you like that." His words are just as deadly serious. It makes her smile. 

"I don't know, Mr. Bond. Maybe I should keep all of that to myself. I don't know if I want you going off and defending my honor like that. There'd be a trail of battered, broken bodies left in your wake." She smiles to show him that she's teasing. 

It takes a moment, but he smiles at her and it almost feels like one of his usual smiles, almost feels like he's teasing. "Nah. No bodies." _Almost._

~*~*~*~*~

"I don't understand why I'm here," Cayleigh tells Clint as they wait for his knock to be answered. They're standing before a small, modest house in the suburbs that looks just like all the other houses around it. The yard is buried under a blanket of snow that reflects the twinkling lights strung around the eaves. A white fence lines the postage stamp size yard and a pair of trees, bare branches reaching heavenward, stand in each corner. There are a few cars in the drive and a couple more rest at the curb. Lights shine through the windows and Cayleigh can hear muffled laughter from inside. 

"Because its Nick's birthday and Christmas is in a few days," Clint replies, his tone the patient kind one uses with a three year old that asks too many questions. She resists the urge to kick his ankle.

"I know that. But why am I here? I was unaware that Nick liked me or even knew me well enough to invite me to his birthday party," she hisses back, letting a hint of her temper leak into her voice. "This is a man you're seeing. He's important to you. I don't belong here." 

Clint turns to look at her, eyes suggesting that he's hurt by her words. "Yes, Nick is important to me. I care about him. A lot. But you're important to me, too. You're like my sister. You're as much a part of my family as Nick is. So I want you two to spend some time together and get to know one another." 

She wants to argue that point, that Nick is more important than she herself is, but the door swings open and the man in question stares out at them. He's dressed casually, in a turtleneck sweater of soft grey and a pair of black jeans, and has a drink in one hand. His glance moves from Clint's face to Cayleigh's slowly. She feels the urge to hide behind Clint because she's sure that this is not okay. But the normally grim look he wears fades into a broad, bright smile and he steps back out of the way. "Come on in. Its about time the two of you arrived." 

Cayleigh finds herself lost and bewildered by Nick's reaction, then it dawns on her that Clint must have mentioned that he was bringing her with him. She follows Clint through the door, terribly thankful when the door shuts behind her and cuts off the cold from outside. It is especially chilly in the city this year, and something about it leaves Cayleigh feeling unsettled. She allows Nick to help her out of her winter coat, which he hangs in a closet near the door. Clint manages his own coat and takes the opportunity to sneak a quick kiss from the other man. Nick shoots him a look that sees Clint just grinning, then Nick motions them forward into the depths of the house. 

He leads them into the living room where everyone else is gathered. Cayleigh and Clint are apparently the last two to arrive and several moments are spent being greeted. There is much shaking of hands and hugging going on. Someone takes the gifts that she and Clint have brought from their hands and sets them aside for later. When she's finally free of the last hug, she takes the opportunity to check out Nick's home. 

The floor beneath her feet is hardwood, old and aged, and well cared for. She doesn't see any scuff marks from the furniture and there are several area rugs laid down as cover. His couch and chairs are plush and match. They are cream in color and look very, very comfortable. The wall facing out toward the street has a giant picture window on it and Nick's Christmas tree stands before it. The lights on it are blue, and the ornaments are silver and blue. Tinsel garland in silver wraps around it from bottom to top, ending at an ornate silver star lit with blue bulbs. There is a faux mantel piece that is decorated with lit pine garland and silver ornaments. A trio of stockings are hanging from it, each one in a different shade of blue.

There are other decorations scattered about. She spies a small group of angels that looks as if its seen many Christmases go by. A lit village on fake snow and a train going in circles around it. All of the trappings of the season that one sees in magazines and movies. Her gaze shifts to where Nick is standing and she spends a minute or two simply looking at him. Seeing such a sentimental display has her reconsidering her impressions of the man. Without warning, his gaze swings her way and they stare at one another for an uncomfortable amount of time. It feels as if he's assessing her and that leaves Cayleigh with the urge to squirm. Then the sensation is gone and he tosses her a big, broad smile. She's left with the notion that she's passed some silent test of his.

The living room is full of people she knows. Some of them she knows well, some only in passing. But she knows them all by name. Maria and Jasper are occupying the couch, his head bent toward hers as he whispers something in her ear. She's smiling at whatever he's saying, eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. The two of them look very cosy together. Of course Phil is there and he's decked out in a plain blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans that have obviously belonged to him for some time. Natasha is in the corner talking to Bobbi, clad in a black t-shirt and leggings. Bobbi is wearing a red silk blouse and black slacks. 

"Can I get you anything to drink?" Nick asks, breaking into Cayleigh's musings. She notices Clint is over talking to Phil, the two of them as close as can be without actually occupying the same physical space. There is a naturalness to the way they talk, and the way they touch, and the way they communicate without words or gestures. It is almost as if they've known one another for a very long time. 

"Oh. Some hot cider, if you've got any. Otherwise, I'll just have some water." 

Nick lets his gaze skim the room a moment before returning to her. He gives her a grin and nods his head in the direction of a door behind him. "I've got some in the kitchen. Why don't you come keep me company while I make it?" It sounds like an innocent suggestion, but something tells her it isn't. She considers, for just a moment, saying no and seeing what will happen. But the thought is gone as quickly as it comes. There's no way she's going to embarrass Clint like that, so she gives a nod and falls into step when Nick turns for the kitchen.

The room he leads her into is modern and warm. The appliances are white and the cupboards are wood, stained a warm and mellow color with frosted glass panels in the doors. A small table takes up one corner and the windows are covered with pale grey curtains that offer privacy from nosy neighbors. For a moment, she's assaulted with an image of Nick cooking in a pair of boxers and she has to stop the smile that it brings. When she pulls herself back to the present, Nick is putting a glass of cider into the microwave to heat. He turns to her and gives her a look she can't decipher and Cayleigh suddenly finds herself uncomfortable.

The look lingers for a few moments and then Nick is relaxing, some of the looming presence that he carries shrinking away to show the man hidden behind that presence. He offers her a smile that is honest and sincere. "I want to personally thank you for convincing Clint to act on his desires." 

She gapes at the man for a moment because this is absolutely unexpected. Nick watches her with a sharp gaze, no doubt reading the emotions that she can feel moving across her face. Finally, her brain and mouth work in tandem again to give him a timid smile. "He told you that I suggested he go for what he wanted most?" she asks. 

"Phil did. After he and Clint discussed it. Barton is stubborn to a fault. Sometimes he needs a kick in the ass to convince him to take a course of action. I don't think they would have ever approached me if you hadn't provided that kick." 

"I didn't really do anything," she says in return. The look he gives her kills anything else she might have to say and makes her want to squirm. 

"You've done a lot more than you know," he responds. The microwave dings behind them but he makes no move to fetch the cider. Cayleigh watches him silently, waiting for whatever else he has to say. She knows that there is more coming. She can feel it around her, building like a gathering storm. "I've known Clint long enough to know that he doesn't trust as easily as you might think. Life has not always been kind to him."

She nods at that. She remembers vividly the things he'd said while under the influence of drugs. Just thinking of what his father did to him as a child leaves her angry and filled with the desire to go back and make young Clint's life so much happier and safer.

Nick watches her for a few moments. The intensity of his stare leaves her feeling like he sees more than he lets on and, for a moment, her mind if filled with images of fey creatures and strange happenings. She shakes it off and once again focuses her attention on the man watching her. He's now leaning up against the countertop behind him. "I have to admit, I was surprised he latched on to you as quickly as he did." She thinks she hears a hint of speculation in his voice.

"I honestly don't understand it myself," she shrugs. He continues to eye her as if he's not quite sure he believes her. She does her best to look small and innocent.

Eventually, Nick makes a noise at the back of his throat that could mean anything. She kind of expects him to continue because he's got that kind of look to him. She's sure that he would be intimidating in some kind of interrogation room. Even at full relax, there's a faint sense of menace that clings to him. Maybe its the eye patch. Or perhaps its the scars. The menace lingers a few second longer, then its gone when he breaks into a broad smile and shakes his head. "I guess it doesn't really matter why he trusted you from the start. Only that he did. Because that trust has brought he and I closer."

"He was pining for you," she informs him, earning a raised brow. She offers him a smile. "Its amazing what those pain killers will do. Loosened his tongue right up. He confessed a few things to me that weekend." 

Nick chuckles at that. She doesn't think she's ever heard him chuckle before and she decides its a good sound. It makes him seem less like a storm looming on the horizon. "Yeah. The good ones tend to do that. I've been there a time or two myself. Phil swears that the last time I was doped up, I was singing Nat King Cole at the top of my lungs." 

She smiles at that. "I bet you have a lovely singing voice. I would love to hear you sing something." 

He stares at her for a few before he smiles, wide and bright and inviting. "You're good. Is this a natural talent or have you been working on it?" 

"You boys have your secrets, Nick. I've got mine," she replies. He laughs again, a full belly laugh. Just like that, Nick is merely a person and Cayleigh can feel his deep buried doubts and worries. She's pretty sure that one of those worries is Clint. She steps forward to put a hand on one of his, a silent offer of support that she doubts he'll ever ask for. "There's no need to thank me, but you're welcome. I didn't really do anything. I just told Clint he could have what he wanted, if he wanted it bad enough and if he tried hard. And he wanted you. I think I can understand why." 

She goes up on her tiptoes and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, hoping silently that she isn't crossing a line. When she steps back, he offers her a big smile. Then he turns and retrieves her cider from the microwave. Steam rises up off the surface of the liquid and Cayleigh takes a deep breath, drawing the smell of pressed apples into her lungs. She motions with one hand toward the doorway and the living room beyond. "Shall we rejoin the festivities?" 

"Probably wise. No doubt Clint is starting to wonder if I've driven you off," Nick remarks. Cayleigh sends him a look out of the corner of her eye and can tell he's totally serious.

"He said he brought me with to make friends," she tells him softly. He huffs at that but she can tell he doesn't look surprised. 

"Clint wanted to bring you today because he's afraid I've frightened you off." She blinks at him. There is a touch of dark humor in his voice that she wants to ask him about. Nick puts a hand on her arm and steers her toward the doorway. She takes the hint and starts walking. Nick is at her side. "It isn't a secret that I am... not a pleasant person most of the time. I have a certain way about me." 

"You scare people Nick. You come off big and bad and maybe a little mean," Cayleigh informs him. Instead of offending him, her words make him laugh again. That honest laugh that makes him seem more human. 

"In my line of work, big and bad and mean work to my advantage," he admits. She thinks she detects a touch of pride hidden amongst his words. "It makes it hard to maintain friends. And Clint is afraid that my personality frightened you. He thinks you're a delicate flower." She can't help the laugh that comes out upon hearing that. Nick gives her a look and grins. "Yeah. Clint's got some odd ideas sometimes. But he's a good man and he's got a good soul. And when he makes friends, he's loyal like no one else I've ever met. You could do worse for a friend." 

"And you could do worse for a boyfriend," she retorts smartly. There's a moment's pause, then Nick is laughing that belly laugh of his that she's only just discovered and she's pretty damned sure that she can add Nick to the list of special people Clint has brought into her life.

Clint looks over at them as they rejoin the group. For a moment, there's a look of concern in his eyes. She smiles at him, letting him know that everything is okay. That sees him smiling in return before his gaze slides past her toward Nick. Whatever he sees there reassures him because his shoulders droop just a little when the tension leaks out of him. A moment later, Nick strolls past her to cross the room and join Clint and Phil where they stand near the tree. Cayleigh stops and sips at her cider and once again lets her gaze roam the room.

Jasper is telling a story about some office mishap, his hands moving rapidly and his face animated. Maria is grinning and Bobbi is snickering. Natasha's wearing a slight smile, but mischief sparkles in her eyes. Everyone's attention is turned on him. 

She lets his words fall away and fade into the background. This is obviously something that won't really mean anything to her. Instead she lets her focus shift to where Nick, Clint, and Phil stand. Nick has slipped between Clint and Phil, standing between them with perhaps one of the softest expressions she's ever seen on his face. He leans down to whisper something in Clint's ear, prompting the other man to lean into Nick. Clint's shoulder bumps Nick's arm, his fingers grazing Nick's lightly. Phil isn't quite as close as Clint, but his attention is centered entirely on the two men at his side. 

She doesn't even think about it when she lets herself go. In the blink of an eye, she can feel the three of them. They're all synced up, three pulses beating in perfect unison. More than that, there is a deep, deep well of emotion swirling around them. She wraps herself in that emotion and lets it warm her. 

For a moment, she's aware of thinking that there's something wrong with allowing herself to live vicariously through other people's relationships. But the thought is gone as she feels the intense love that these three men have for one another. It doesn't surprise her that this is the first thing she senses from them. There is love from all three of them, in equal amounts, directed at their partners. A tingle runs under her skin, in time with the way Nick strokes both Clint and Phil's arms, reminding her that she shouldn't be doing this. But she has to be sure, because she's responsible for the three of them being together. 

Love, respect, desire, hunger, need, friendship, longing. All of that is there. All of that and more. Equal portions and equal shares. Each man gives all those things and asks for nothing in return. Its lovely to feel so many shared emotions. And its just as lovely to see those emotions displayed in a look or a touch. In the way they cluster together, stand close and just bask in each other. She catches sight of quick, stolen kisses. And sweet smiles. And long, demanding kisses. Whispered words. She allows herself to bask in their tenderness until the tingles turn to flutters that tickle under her skin. 

When she finally pulls back, Jasper is still telling his tale. Maria, Natasha, and Bobbi are enrapt with it. Clint, Nick, and Phil are enrapt with each other. And, not for the first time in her life, Cayleigh is on the outside looking in.

But, unlike those other times, she doesn't mind. Because this is family and she helped create this. And that means more than anything in the world. 

~*~*~*~*~

It is a Tuesday when the world goes to hell. Cayleigh is at work when it happens. She's sitting at her desk, trying to keep the niggling sense of doom at bay, when there's a flash of bright light from behind her. It brings her head up, because it makes her think of lightning. But there is no lightning. There are no clouds. She doesn't quite know what to make of it and is about to go back to her work when someone breaks the silence. "What the holy fuck is that?" 

In seconds, people are crowding up against the glass to see what's going on. Cayleigh finds a place at the front and tries to make sense of what she sees. A bright blue beam of light is reaching to the heavens from the top of Stark Tower. From her position, she can see the churning clouds around gathered around the beam in the sky. In the middle of the cloud circle, she can see the darkness of space. But more than that, she can see... things coming out of the cloud circle. 

It doesn't take long for chaos to break out. Even though she's seeing it, she's having a hard time believing it. Aliens, and there is no other word for the creatures pouring out of the gaping hole in the sky, are dropping down into the city. Laser blasts are hitting cars and buildings. There are explosions and fires. Down below, she can see that people are running and no doubt screaming in an effort to get away from the aliens. 

A flash of red and gold draws her attention, letting her know that Iron Man is already on top of the situation. He soars through the air effortlessly, firing off his repulsors as he goes. She can see that he hits his targets and the aliens are falling to his attacks. But a glance up shows her that there are quite a few of the aliens coming through the opening in the sky. She doesn't think there's any way that Iron Man can hold off all those aliens on his own.

She doesn't realize that she's holding her breath until her chest starts to hurt and she has to force herself to breathe. There are aliens everywhere and Iron Man is doing what he can. But there are too many of the aliens and he's already overwhelmed. She notices out of the corner of her eye that the aliens are throwing themselves through windows, into buildings where people are. The others behind her have obviously figured out the same thing because someone is yelling that they should get the hell out of there. Cayleigh is just starting to turn away from the window when a small plane, one she's never seen before, zips past their building. Something familiar skitters up her spine and she's suddenly riveted to the spot.

The plane thing makes an emergency landing and three figures emerge from inside only moments later. She sees flashes of black and flashes of red, white, and blue. She isn't sure what's going on until she sees the bright shield with the star in the center. She's always thought that Captain America was a myth or legend. But she's pretty damned sure that's who she's staring at. The distance makes it hard to be certain, though. And then everything just seems to happen all at once. 

Aliens pour from the hole in the sky. The group on the ground throws themselves into the fray, firing weapons at the aliens. Throwing the shield at the aliens. Fighting the aliens. It all blurs until she isn't really absorbing what she sees. She figures she can do that later. For now, she watches as the four figures try to hold back the tide of aliens.

Four becomes five. And five becomes six. The battle wages on. There are aliens on things that look like flying chariots without wheels. And there are aliens on giant space whale things that launch themselves at the buildings. And there are so, so many of them. They're bursting into buildings and clustering in the streets. 

Everything becomes a blur. Cayleigh can't even begin to parse what she's seeing. There's a giant green monster bringing down aliens and alien space whales alike. A man with a hammer and a red cape who flies. Mythology gives her a name but she's having a hard time believing it. Thor is nothing but a myth. And yet... Iron Man in his flying suit of red and gold, taking the fight to the aliens in the air and blasting them out of the sky. Captain America, using his shield to stop them and drop them. And two others that she can't see clearly because they're stuck on the ground.

Until the six of them come together. The aliens are overwhelming them, trying to take control of the city. She watches as Captain America starts pointing and its obvious he's giving orders. The man who might be Thor zooms past, hammer in hand and red cape flapping in the breeze. And then Iron Man is flying past, arms wrapped around one of the unnamed figures. But he isn't unnamed anymore. She recognizes that face but she can't believe it. Its Clint, bow in one hand and a quiver of arrows on his back Clint, whom she hasn't seen in weeks, who has been out of town for a long time, is in New York City in the middle of a battle with aliens. Her attention turns to the two remaining figures on the ground. She registers the flash of bright red hair. Natasha. 

The injuries begin to make sense. The secrecy begins to make sense. So many little statements begin to make sense. Cayleigh doesn't understand what she's seeing here, but it doesn't matter. This is obviously what Clint does, takes on invading armies from space with nothing but a bow and arrow. She watches as floating chariots and aliens alike fall from the sky. And a kernel of hope blossoms in her chest. 

She's been calling him James Bond for a long time and its obvious she's wrong. He's not James Bond. He's a goddamned superhero!


	5. Chapter Five: Petrified

Clint has never been so happy to have an elevator at his disposal in all his life. He's tired and every muscle in his body aches. There's no way he'd have made it up the stairs in the condition he's in now. Fighting gods and aliens will do that to a person. Jumping off buildings and going through windows will do that to a person. He knows he should have checked in with his superiors and given his report. Probably he should have gone and seen the company shrinks, too, because it isn't every day that a fucking demigod uses magic to fuck with a man's head. He should be at S.H.I.E.L.D., filling out papers and talking to doctors and trying not to think about everything that's happened in the past few days. He should, but he's too damned tired to care. Let them give him a ration of shit for it later. Right now, after everything he's been through, all he wants is the privacy of his own apartment and the comfort of his own bed.

The elevator comes to a jarring stop, jostling every single one of his aches to pull a groan up his throat. His entire body hurts like it never has before. All he wants to do is take a hot shower and then fall into bed. Maybe he'll even take something to kill the pain. He's pretty sure he'll sleep with or without it. If he has enough energy, he might call Nick and Phil. Convince them to come over and cuddle him while he sleeps the off the pain and the regret. Use their warm, comforting embraces to stave off the nightmares for just a little longer. Except they no doubt have a lot of work to do. Someone has to get cleanup started. Aliens have wrecked Manhattan, after all. Maybe he can convince Cayleigh to come hold his hand while he sleeps...

When he steps out of the elevator, he finds Nick standing before his door. Which is odd, because Nick never shows up unannounced. And he isn't likely to just linger in the hallway because it makes people uncomfortable. Not to mention he has his own key. And then there's the whole aliens in Manhattan thing and dealing with all of that shit. Something is going on. 

Nick watches him come up the hall with a flat expression on his face. It sets Clint on edge because that face means bad shit is going down. All Clint can think is that someone wants his head on a platter for what he did while under Loki's influence. Not that he blames them. People are dead because of him. Shit is super fucked up because of him. Probably Nick is here to escort him to a cell back at headquarters. If he is, though, its odd he's here by himself. Maybe he hopes that Clint will acquiesce to his orders without a fight because of their relationship. 

When he gets within three feet of Nick, Clint stops and stares at the man warily. Something about his posture isn't right. It sets Clint on edge and his fingers curl reflexively, longing for the feel of his bow. "Nick," he gets out, voice a little hoarse. He sees Nick's shoulders tighten at that, letting him know that the other man has heard the unspoken question in his voice.

Nick doesn't speak right away. Instead, he stares at Clint for a long, long while. It gives Clint an opportunity to study the man's face. There's sadness and regret there, which is enough to convince Clint he'll never see his bed again. He puts his hands up to try and ward off the inevitable. There's a faint hope that he'll be able to appeal to Nick's emotional side. Maybe he can convince the other man to give him a head start before he sends his best agents after Clint. "I know I did really bad things, Nick. But you have to believe me. I couldn't stop myself. I tried to stop it. But I couldn't. Loki--"

"I'm not here about that, Clint," Nick cuts across his words, voice thick and heavy with sorrow. Clint stops and stares at him, brain trying valiantly to read what Nick isn't saying in the narrow spaces between his words. But he's too tired to manage the task. "Clint. I'm sorry. I wish things were different but..." 

Nick's words trail off, ending with a soft sigh of something like anguish. The sound sends Clint's brain spiraling into gear. If Nick isn't here to take Clint into custody so that he can be made to answer for his crimes, there's only one other reason he can think of that would have Nick waiting for him on his doorstep. He shakes his head in an attempt to drive that thought out, stumbles back toward the door. Nick follows him, a hand reaching for him. "No. This can't be," Clint whispers. "I'm sleeping and this is a bad dream." 

"I'm sorry, Clint," Nick whispers. Clint's back hits the door a second before Nick's hand curls around his arm. "I'm so sorry." 

The exhaustion is gone. Its replaced by a familiar emptiness and Clint suddenly feels cold. Nick tugs him against his chest and hugs him tight. This can't be happening. It can't. They haven't survived dangerous missions and Clint's insecurities for Phil to die. "What happened?" The question is a hoarse whisper. He's vaguely aware of the sound of a doorknob turning, but its distant and unimportant. Right now, Nick has his focus. 

"Clint, don't do this." 

"What happened, Nick?" This time, there's more strength to his voice. He forces himself from Nick's embrace because his brain is screaming that he doesn't deserve the warmth and sympathy found in Nick's arms. 

"Phil tried to stop Loki from leaving after he tricked his brother into the cage," Nick tells him quietly. "Loki stabbed him in the back." 

Clint stares at him, eyes wide with disbelief. He knows what Nick is telling him without actually saying it. Phil is dead. Phil is dead and they'll never see him again. So many people killed or injured because Clint hadn't been able to fight Loki. So many deaths already on his head. And now Phil has been added to that list.. This is his fault. All of it. He's the one who gave Loki the ability to make his plans work. He's the one who made sure that everyone was so occupied by the attack that Loki was able to escape. Its his fault that Phil is dead. He doesn't understand why Nick is just standing there, using the softest voice Clint has ever heard from him while looking at him with pain dulling his gaze. He doesn't understand why Nick hasn't already slapped him in cuffs and hauled him off to a cell in the bowels of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. He has every right. 

Clint has to swallow twice before he can force his voice to work. When it does come, its a hoarse whisper that echoes like the tolling of a church bell up the silent hallway. "This is my fault." 

"No, Clint. This isn't your fault," Nick reassures him. There are tears clogging the man's throat, choking him on his words. Clint's never seen Nick like this, never anything less than in control and in charge. It has to be just as hard for Nick as it is for Clint because they'd both loved Phil with all their hearts. Even if none of them had actually said the words aloud, it was a fact that was plain as day. And now... Now, Phil is gone and its Clint's fault. "This is my fault, Clint. I was the one who sent him down there without backup. Maybe if he'd had someone watching his six... Maybe if I'd been there with him..." 

"Then Loki would have killed both of you. And I don't know if I'd be able to live with myself if that had happened," Clint whispers, voice thick with grief and self-recrimination. Slowly, as if he's afraid moving quickly will spook Clint, Nick inches forward and wraps his arms around Clint. Tugs Clint into his embrace once more and just holds him. Clint wants to fight it, because he doesn't deserve this now, after all he's done. But he can't make himself push away. Instead, he clings to Nick because his heart aches more than his body and Phil is gone and its his fault. He wants to cry and rage against the unfairness of it all, but he can't. He's gone numb on the inside and all he can do is hang on to Nick and hope like hell that this isn't the last time he'll be able to touch the man like this. 

Silence settles between them, heavy and thick and strained, as they continue to hold each other. Clint realizes that Nick must be hurting just as badly because he still clings to Clint and doesn't seem to care if someone sees them. Minutes tick by with agonizing slowness, each one taking them further and further away from Phil. "How do we do this now, Nick? How do we live without him?"

Nick says nothing for a several long seconds. Clint's hands curl tighter into Nick's leather coat, as if attempting to dig the answer out of him. Finally, the man sighs and Clint can feel the way his body shudders with loss as he does so. "I don't know, Clint. I honestly don't know." 

"You don't have to." The voice is soft and tender and filled with the pain Clint feels. He and Nick break apart to find Cayleigh standing in the hallway, the door to her apartment still open behind her. Tears slide silently down her cheeks. She looks as lost as Clint feels and he reaches for her. She steps into his arms and allows him to hug her close, a fine tremor sliding up and down her back. She presses her face into his chest and sobs silently. 

"What do you mean, Cayleigh?" Nick asks. His voice is gruff and low in an effort to hide the faint hint of hope brought to life by her words. 

"I know how much he means to you both," she says as she pushes away from Clint and wipes the tears from her cheeks with the back of one hand. She's wearing an old t-shirt, something Clint hasn't seen her in for some time. He vaguely notes the faded band's name on it before turning all of his attention to the dark lines that trail down her arms. The very ends are thin and vine like, with small leaves clustered here and there. Closer to her sleeves, though, the vines have thickened into what appears to be tree branches. They look like tattoos, but they don't. And Clint can't remember seeing them before. "I can bring him back but we can't wait too long or it won't work." 

"Cayleigh, he's gone. You can't bring him back from the dead," Clint says gently, despite the way his heart aches with the words. Despite the hope now burning in his belly. "I know you liked Phil, honey, but you can't... He's dead." It hurts so much to say the words. 

"I can do it, Clint. I swear to whatever gods you believe in, I can do it." There's a determined edge to her voice and he watches as her eyes move over him quickly. They finally land on a deep gash in his arm, a reminder of the battle thanks to the plate glass window he'd gone through. Her hand reaches out, fingers touching the wound before he can stop her. "Trust me. I can do this." 

It happens in the blink of an eye, but it feels like an eternity. Cayleigh's fingers grow warm where they touch Clint's skin, then that warmth begins to radiate outward from the wound. Beneath the heat, it tingles and burns. Along Cayleigh's arm, the vines writhe and shift, inching forward toward her wrist. The leaves grow bigger and brighter. Not even a minute later, she takes her hand away and covers the shifting vines with her other hand. A glance down to the wound shows that its gone. There isn't even a faint hint of pink to the skin to say that there was ever a wound there. 

"Cayleigh, we can't ask you to do this," Nick says softly. She turns to look at him, her face carefully empty. 

"You're not asking. I'm offering. But we need to hurry. Every minute we waste makes it that much harder to save him." She lets her gaze slide between Nick and himself, searching for the answer in their faces. Clint opens his mouth to say no because he might not understand exactly what's going on but he knows that doing this is wrong. She smiles at him and puts a hand against his mouth to silence him. "Please, Clint. Let me help." 

He looks to Nick for guidance, but Nick looks as shell-shocked as Clint feels. Cayleigh's gaze slides back and forth between them for a few moments, eyes bright with emotion. Its easy to see the care and concern, and the sympathy, but its harder to read the other emotions that linger with them. Every single one of his senses is telling him that there is something very wrong with this situation, but he can't put his finger on what that something is. He's just about to turn Cayleigh's offer down when Nick's heavy sigh cuts across him and pulls his attention to the man beside him. "What do we need to do?" Nick asks quietly. The question fills the hallway and threatens to smother Clint where he stands. 

"How fast can you get Phil's body to Central Park?" Cayleigh ignores the look Clint shoots her and gives all her attention to Nick.

"Fast enough," Nick responds. She nods and turns for her apartment. 

"Go get Phil's body, then meet me where East Drive and the Eighty-Fifth Street Transverse cross," she instructs as she crosses the short distance to the open door. "I'll be there waiting for you. But hurry." That's the last thing she says before she disappears into her apartment. The door swings shut and Clint is filled with foreboding. He turns to the man beside him. 

Its Clint's intention to tear into Nick for making this decision without giving it consideration. Without consulting Clint about it. But the look of utter devastation Nick gives him stops the words before Clint can get them out. Nick is as emotionally destroyed as Clint is. He's known Phil for a very long time. Has loved him almost as long as he's known him. He's drowning under the weight of his emotions, love and friendship battling against responsibility and guilt. Clint has never thought about how hard it is for Nick to be Director Fury and just do his job without personal feelings getting in the way of duty. Standing before him now, Clint can see the toll being Director Fury has taken on the man under the shell. Its very sobering and more than a little frightening. Clint steps forward to wrap his arms around the man and press a tender kiss to his lips.

"We'll get him back. We'll make it right. We won't let Loki win," he whispers. Nick nods silently, then straightens and his vulnerability is once again masked behind a wall crafted of duty and responsibility. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, Clint watches as Nick fades into the background so that Director Fury can rise to the surface. Clint follows suit, pushing aside his grief and guilt and fears so that he can become Agent Barton again. The two of them give each other a look, then they head for the elevators without saying anything else. 

~*~

The area around the park is still in chaos despite the decree by city officials that residents should remain indoors for their safety. Members of the police force and the National Guard are patrolling the streets, encouraging people to follow orders as well as protecting against looters and other vandals. Scattered amongst them are agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., working on scooping up alien technology and assisting in the removal of the dead aliens. Clean up is already in full swing, with large groups of workers clearing away rubble and debris so that the streets can be assessed or used. 

Clint and Nick are silent as the SUV glides through the destruction left behind in the wake of the alien invasion and battle. Big and black, few people give it a second look. Not a single soul dares stop it, as if they can sense the urgency of its mission. Clint can almost forget where they're going and why. Almost but for the soft shushing sound of the body bag in the back that comes each time it shifts and sways. 

When they reach the designated location, its to find that Cayleigh is waiting for them. She's hidden away from prying eyes so she won't be caught and sent home on the off chance someone enters the park, but Clint spies her easily enough among the shadows stretching across the green grass. Darkness is coming soon and an odd itch tingles under Clint's skin. It feels like there is an electrical charge growing on the air around them, like something big is about to happen and, once again, he's going to be in the middle of it all. A glance at Nick's profile tells Clint that he, too, senses something is about to happen. 

As soon as Nick parks the SUV, Cayleigh steps out of the shadows toward them. She's wearing a long, gauzy skirt, a thin tank top, and a thin jacket with long sleeves. It takes Clint a moment to realize that she's got herself covered almost completely from head to foot. The vines and leaves he remembers seeing are well covered by her clothing, hidden away from prying eyes. He thinks back over the years he's known her, recalling how her clothing has gradually gotten longer and covered more. Whatever this magic is she possesses, he's sure she's been using it. What he isn't sure about is why she's been hiding it from him. 

There is no one to pay them any attention as he and Nick haul the body bag out of the back of the SUV. And there is no one pay to them any attention when they carry their burden along one of the park's many pathways, following quietly behind Cayleigh as she leads them to whatever destination she's picked out. The park is mostly silent, the only sounds they hear filtering in from outside. They move along pathways normally teeming with foot traffic. It almost feels like they're stealing into a forbidden city or ancient ruins. Clint half-expects people to melt out of the darkness and demand to know what they think they're doing.

Nothing of the sort happens. Everyone who has the power to stop them and question them about their activities is busy elsewhere. With other, more important things. As far as Clint can tell, they're the only three souls in the park. A sixth sense tells him that is exactly how they want it. They reach their destination, quickly and without challenge, to find that Cayleigh has picked a spot under the spread branches of the trees next to the Reservoir. Cayleigh glances around briefly, then moves to stand a few feet from the nearest tree. "Put him at my feet," she tells them softly. 

Clint and Nick settle the body bag on the ground gently. Neither one seems to be in any rush to pull down the zipper. It doesn't matter because Cayleigh kneels and does it for them. Clint doesn't want to watch as the dark plastic falls away, but he has to see Phil's face one last time. He's seen death before, but never like this. Phil's face is pale in the growing dusk, but there's enough light to see the blue around his lips. And the way his clothing has been shredded. "Don't worry, Clint. I'll bring him back to you."

Cayleigh's words are soft in the still night and he watches as she toes off her shoes. They're an old pair of canvas shoes that have seen better days. She doesn't look at either of them as she moves them to the side and reaches for her top. "I know you're wondering what's going on here. I'll do my best to explain. Please don't interrupt because I need to tell it fast." 

She straightens and shrugs out of the light coat she wears. "When I was a teenager, I went to Europe to travel around the country. It was the thing to do. My parents thought it would be good for me. I didn't have many friends and they thought maybe if I saw the world, I might come out of my shell. It didn't quite work out that way." 

The jacket is tossed down by her shoes, forgotten as she reaches for the tank top. "I was in England, hiking in the forest. It was old and it was full of magic. I could feel it all around me. I came to the edge of a road that I could swear wasn't supposed to be there, and there was a small child playing on it. The child seemed oblivious to her surroundings. And when a car came zipping around the corner, I didn't even think. I just ran out and grabbed her and pulled her out of harm's way. The next thing I knew, the child was gone. But I swear I could hear childish whispering on the air, in a musical language I'd never heard before." 

Clint watches as she removes her tank top to stand before them in her bra. He can see the dark lines running down her arms, the vines moving and shifting constantly. Leaves blow on an invisible breeze, some of them falling off their branches to drift down her skin. There are more of the same lines wrapping around her torso and abdomen, just a few inches from touching tip to tip. Cayleigh takes off her bra and continues her story. 

"The child's voice hadn't even died down when there was this... disturbance on the air. One minute, I was alone. The next, there was a tall, willowy being standing before me. Pale silver hair and moonlight skin. Eyes as deep as the ocean. And black as night. When it spoke, it said my name. And I honest to god heard tiny bells chiming and tinkling on the air. Turns out I'd saved the life of a genuine Faerie princess and her father wanted to grant me a boon for my selflessness. He reached out and put a pair of fingers to my head and whispered words in a language no one speaks anymore. Warmth and bright light flooded me, then were gone. The Fae creature before me wore a dazzling smile as told me it was done. Then he disappeared, too, and I was left alone."

By this time, Cayleigh's skirt is on the ground, leaving her in only her panties. She turns to show them her back and they can see that her back is entirely covered by the massive trunk of a mighty oak tree. Roots trail down her buttocks and legs toward her feet while branches climb up into her hair and over her shoulders. They follow the length of her arms toward her hands. When she turns back around, there are roots covering the front of her legs and falling leaves flutter down to her feet. There they lay, the top layer the bright and vivid green of leaves that have not yet died. They shift to yellow, then orange, then red, then finally to brown. Branches circle her throat, swaying back and forth with gentle motions. They're mostly bare, but there are buds clinging to them, just waiting for the chance to open.

"Once upon a time, the tree was nothing more than an acorn," she tells them and turns to face them. Clint watches as she bends down again and begins moving the edges of the bag back so that Phil's head touches the ground. "For the longest time, I thought it was nothing more than a tattoo. And then, one day, I realized that I could do things that I hadn't been able to do before. Magic things." 

Clint glances over at Nick to see he's watching Cayleigh closely. There is nothing on his face to give away what he's thinking, but Clint knows there's tension pulling the other man's shoulders tight. Nick's spine is ramrod straight and his arms are crossed over his chest. Clint can't tell if Nick is buying this story or not. Clint isn't really sure if he's buying it yet, despite the way the branches wave back and forth across Cayleigh's skin. 

"I could read people's emotions by letting myself feel them. The magic let me do that. I could do other things with it, too. Things like heal wounds." Clint absently touches the spot on his arm where Cayleigh had used her magic on him, fingers finding the smooth patch of skin with ease. "There were other things, too. In the beginning, I used it without thought or care. Then I realized that the tattoo was growing, that it was sprouting from an acorn into a tree. That kind of freaked me out and I went in search of answers."

The air around them hums with the soft chimes of bells ringing in the distance. Cayleigh moves until her feet are under Phil's head. "It took a while, but I found a woman who knew things. She listened to my tale and studied the tree. She consulted several thick books in her possession. And finally she told me that the tree was alive. And that it grew every time I used the magic. 'No gift is truly free,' she told me. Then she went on to explain that the magic came with the price of my life. Each use would draw away a little more of my life force until there would eventually be nothing left. When that happened, the tree would burst forth and consume me." 

It takes less than a second for Clint to decipher what Cayleigh is telling him. A sharp pain stabs through him at the idea that she's willingly going to give up her life for Phil. "Cayleigh, you can't do this," he whispers. 

"It was after this that I fell into my first and only romantic relationship. It might have lasted if not for this." Her hands motion to the dark limbs shifting against her skin. She's intentionally ignoring Clint, her gaze focused on Phil's pale face. "I'd made a vow to stop using the magic and I'd done a good job of it until she came into my life. And when she found out that I could do magic, she wanted me to use it. I explained what would happen, but she didn't really seem to care. Or maybe she didn't believe me. Either way, the tree came between us and when I wouldn't use my magic for her, she called me a selfish bitch and she left me. That was when I vowed that I would never put myself in that position again."

A faint glow starts near her feet, telling Clint she's already drawing on her magic. He tries to move, tries to stop this because it isn't right that she should sacrifice herself to bring Phil back. She's like a sister to him. He doesn't want to lose her. But he can't move. Its almost as if his feet are rooted to the spot. "Goddamn it, Cayleigh. We'll find another way. This isn't right!" When she says nothing, he turns to look at Nick. "We can't let her do this. You know Phil wouldn't want her to give up her life for his." 

Nick says nothing for a very long time, his gaze locked on Phil's face. Even in the dim light, Clint can see the emotions building behind Nick's thousand yard stare. He's obviously torn, his desire to see Phil alive and whole again warring with his need to protect Cayleigh. She's not just family to Clint, she's family to them all. He can see that Nick believes this the same as he does. 

"And I didn't. I kept to myself. I shut everyone out and lived a boring life." Cayleigh speaks before Nick can, effectively cutting off any reply he might want to make. The glow around her feet gets brighter and begins to encompass Phil's body. The ground shifts beneath their feet just a little and Clint can see through the shimmering light that the roots trailing down Cayleigh's legs have reached her feet and are growing out into the ground. Her head lifts and she gives her full attention to the two of them. The light of her magic reflects off the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Until you. Somehow, Clint, you wormed your way past my defenses and into my heart. You became my family. All of you did. And I would do anything to protect my family."

"We'll find another way, Cayleigh. There has to be another way. I don't want to exchange one of you for the other!" Clint can hear the desperate whine in his voice, but he doesn't care. 

She gives him a smile across the distance. Its a mix of love, peace, and sorrow. "This is my choice, Clint. I love you all so very much. And I know how much you both love Phil. I can give him back to you. That's the least I can do for making me part of your family. Take good care of him and tell him you love him as often as you can. Tell him I love him, too." 

"Cayleigh, no!" Clint shouts and lunges forward, intent on stopping it now. But Nick grabs hold of him and pulls him back. Uses every last ounce of his strength to keep Clint at his side. 

"We'll find a way to bring you back, Cayleigh." Nick's voice is filled with promise. And regret. Clint sees Cayleigh nod, then she turns her face away. The magic grows, making the air heavier and thicker. Clint watches as bark begins to race up Cayleigh's legs, fusing them together to form a solid trunk. Her body twists slightly, as if she's trying to turn away from them and the ever advancing bark.

The bark climbs her body, up over her thighs and hips. It consumes her torso and raises her arms into the air. Her fingers spread and grow, lengthening into thin branches. The long strands of her hair lift and do the same, forming a dome over her. Leaves sprout, unfurling to wave in a soft breeze, filling in the bare branches until they become a canopy of glossy green. The glow fades as quickly as it started and they're left staring into the darkness

Frustration and sadness well up inside of Clint. Cayleigh's gone and all that remains is an oak tree set apart from the other trees around it. As if even her sacrifice leaves her alone and cut off from the rest of the world. Bitter tears clog his throat and threaten to spill down his cheeks. There is no sound to mark her transformation. There is no flash of light. There is nothing to even indicate that the tree was once a living, breathing human being. 

There's no time to mourn Cayleigh, though, because Clint's attention is grabbed by a deep exhalation and the crinkle of plastic. His gaze shifts down to the base of the tree to find that Phil is sitting up on the body bag, one hand running over the black material absently. Nick is in motion only a second before Clint, both of them hurrying to the man's side even as his eyes seek them out. Clint and Nick kneel beside Phil, one of Nick’s hands reaching up to press against Phil’s chest where his suit coat and shirt are in tatters. Clint knows he’s searching for the wound left behind by Loki’s staff. When he’s confident that the wound is healed, Nick's hands move swift and certain over Phil's body to assure himself that this is no illusion. Phil really is there with them. 

They hug Phil together, wrapping their arms around him tightly. To Clint, it feels like a silent promise between himself and Nick to never let anything happen to Phil again. He looks at Nick over Phil's head and gives a faint smile. "You swear you'll find a way to fix this?" 

"I promised, Clint. And I always do my best to keep my promises," Nick replies. 

"What did you promise, Nick?" Phil asks. His hand runs over the plastic beneath him again. Clint watches as Phil's hand lifts and rubs absently at his chest in an almost perfect copy of Nick's own touch only moments ago. "And why am I sitting on a body bag?"


	6. Chapter Six: A New Life

The conference room is one of the smaller ones, meant to hold maybe a dozen or so people, and it feels somber. A glance around the room from beneath his brow shows Clint that none of the people in attendance look happy. They've called everyone who matters into attendance. Natasha is closest to him, watching him carefully with a concerned expression on her face. Captain America, in his regular civilian role of Steve Rogers, sits directly across from her, clad in a plain white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He looks like he's about to doze off, eyes heavy with exhaustion and old memories. Tony Stark, ever a pain in everyone's ass, sits two seats down from Natasha. He looks like a normal human in an old Suicidal Tendencies t-shirt that has seen better days. Bruce Banner sits next to Stark, eyes locked on a tablet in his hands. Thor is the only one still clad in what he'd worn during the battle and he looks like he's uncomfortable in it. 

There's a heavy silence that hangs over their heads. No one seems to want to be the first to say anything, as if by doing so, they're being disrespectful. Clint doesn't bother telling them the latest news, saving that instead for Nick. That's the kind of thing that he seems to like to do anyway. Instead, he goes over the events of the day. He's still having a hard time believing that Cayleigh is just simply gone like that. The small pile of clothes resting on the chair next to him do their best to drive the point home.

"Is there a reason Fury called us here?" Stark asks from down the table, his attention on the phone in his hand. Clint has no doubt he's trying to dig into the agency's servers just to say he did it.

"Yes. And he'll explain it when he gets here," Clint replies before slouching down in the chair. Its a mistake, because all of the remaining aches and pains from the earlier battle make themselves known. Everything pulls tight and cries out in agony, leaving him eager for his bed. But he can't rest until he sets things right. One hand reaches out to touch the corner of Cayleigh's skirt, a silent reminder as to why this is important. He doesn't miss Natasha's gaze following his movement.

The room drops back into silence, leaving Clint alone with his thoughts. He can't quite wipe the images of Cayleigh going from flesh and blood human to bark and leaf covered tree from his mind. He's angry with himself for not being able to stop her, angry that it took him much too long to figure out what she had planned on doing. It isn't that he's not happy to have Phil back. He's ecstatic to have Phil back. Hearing Nick say that Loki had killed Phil had left a huge, gaping hole where Clint's heart was supposed to be. But he doesn't like the idea of losing one family member to replace another. Cayleigh shouldn't have made that sacrifice.

He's still deep in his thoughts about what's happened when the door opens. Nick steps into the room, his mouth set in a flat line to give him a grim look. Clint doesn't think he's put it on as some part of an act or anything. He's of the opinion that the look is on his face because he doesn't relish the idea of dealing with Tony Stark. If the silence was heavy before, its practically deafening now. Every person in the room is painfully aware of the man's presence. Nick is bigger than life and all Clint can think is that this must be what a god would be like if made flesh. His gaze absently slides to Thor at the thought. Definitely the same presence as a god.

Nick takes his time walking around the table to the end nearest where Clint sits. Clint doesn't have to look to know that the man's intense gaze moves from one face to the next. Nick uses it as a tactic meant to intimidate. And it works. With most people. Natasha is mostly immune and Clint's reaction to it is dependent upon what kind of trouble he's in. 

When Nick reaches the end of the table, he turns to face everyone. Clint watches as he crosses his arms over his chest and gives them one last intense look. Banner puts the tablet down and gives his attention to Nick. Stark sits back in his chair and tries to stare Nick down, as if he thinks that will convince Nick to spill his secrets before he's ready. Clint has to swallow the snort down and shifts his focus to the bruises peppering his knuckles.

"You want to tell us why you've called us here, Fury? In case you missed it, we just saved the world. I think that means we're due a little quiet time." Stark tries to sound like his snarky self, but he just sounds tired and worn down. Clint can't say that he blames the man. Stark did almost die earlier trying to keep Manhattan on the map. 

"You got someplace more important to be, Stark? Is your bed going to run away while you're attending a debriefing?" Nick shoots back, only slightly upset by the other man's superior attitude. 

"No, but I don't see why this can't wait until we've all had some rest," Stark persists. "In case you've forgotten, we were fighting aliens and a demigod with a superiority complex." 

Clint can't help the snort of laughter that comes out at that. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. He doesn't know Stark very well beyond what he's seen in S.H.I.E.L.D. files and on the news. He's kind of surprised that Nick tapped someone like Tony Stark for the Avengers Initiative, but he knows better than to question the man's decisions. Nick didn't make head of the entire agency because of his sparkling personality. He had to have seen something in Stark that no one else saw.

Everyone turns to look at Clint. He can feel their eyes on him. He lifts his head to find that Natasha is studying him intently. No doubt she knows something is off. Everyone else acts like they've never seen him before. Except Stark, who is decidedly not amused. "Enjoying the show, Legolas?" he asks.

Clint doesn't get a chance to reply. Nick puts a hand on his shoulder. "Don't encourage him, Barton." 

"Yes, sir," Clint replies and sits back in the chair, arms crossed over his chest. He's going to let this whole thing go because he knows its after operations adrenalin. Come the morning, Stark will be singing a different tune. Clint's been there. He knows how it goes. He must give up too easily because Natasha's eyes narrow on him, but she says nothing and shifts her attention to Nick. 

"As it happens, I have a damned good reason for calling you all here. I realize you're all tired and ready to fall over. You fought a hard battle against the aliens. You could have died. But you didn't. You saved the city and the world. The world cannot possibly begin to repay that or tell you thank you enough." The words are spoken with the utmost sincerity and they go a long way toward settling people down. "But there have been some developments that I feel you should be made aware of." 

"Developments? What kind of developments?" Rogers asks. He looks like he's torn about whether or not he wants to suit up and go at it again. 

"You'll recall that Loki brought an abrupt end to one of my agents earlier when he escaped his cell." Nick didn't bother to beat around the bush. A faint hush falls over the room at the mention of Phil and Clint catches a glimmer of tears in Natasha's eyes before she blinks them away. Thor looks lost. Stark's emotions are laid bare on his face, something Clint is sure he hadn't planned on having happen. 

Clint does his best not to let everyone see what he thinks of his role in the events that had brought that about. 

"My brother will pay," Thor says softly. There is so much promise in his words that Clint doesn't doubt he means it. 

"The situation has changed," Nick tells them. At the same time, Clint hears the door open and close softly. No one else has noticed the newest addition to the room yet, so Phil just stays by the door and waits patiently. 

"The situation has changed. That's not cryptic at all. What does that mean? What situation has changed?" Stark asks.

"That would be my situation," Phil says from where he stands by the door. All chairs swivel to look at him and Clint can only imagine the looks on everyone's faces. "I was dead but now I'm alive." 

As one, the whole group turns back to face Nick. Natasha shoots a glare at Clint, pissed that he didn't tell her about this. He shrugs and watches as Phil moves forward to join them. The silence is almost deafening as Phil takes position next to Nick. He's changed into a fresh shirt and suit and he's combed his hair. Had Clint not seen him earlier, he'd be hard pressed to believe that Phil had ever been dead.

"How is this possible?" Stark looks like he's seeing a ghost, which Clint can understand. He shouldn't be so surprised by this turn of events, though, given the people sitting in the room with him. Captain America had been believed dead for years until a team found him in the ice. He should be dead because no one should be able to survive being encased in ice for seventy years. And yet, the man is sitting at the table, staring at Phil like this is just another day for him. "You told us he was dead. Was it a ploy? A means to an end to get what you wanted?" 

"I used the tools I had to get the job done. Don't look at me like I'm a monster because I had to find a way to motivate you into doing your job!" Nick retorts. 

"Phil really was dead," Clint says before a bitter argument can break out between the two of them. He knows that Nick likes Stark. But he hates dealing with him because the man is a spoiled prima donna.

Clint doesn't say anything else, doesn't get up from his chair. Still, all eyes in the room turn to him and wait for him to continue. He shoots a glance at Nick, silently asking for permission. Nick gives a slight incline of his head. Clint sighs and picks up the clothing on the chair next to him and sets them on the table so everyone can see them. "Phil was dead, Stark. I saw his body. It was cold and stiff and blue. Big hole in the chest where his heart is. He was gone." 

"So how is he not dead anymore?" Stark crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Clint.

Clint sighs and reaches out to absently trail his fingers over the material of Cayleigh's skirt. "A friend of mine gave up her life for his." 

There are puzzled looks at that and everyone shares looks between themselves as they try to decipher what Clint means. Natasha is the only one who doesn't glance away from Clint. Her gaze follows his hand for a moment, then she lifts her eyes to his. He can see she knows, can see the knowledge reflected in her stare. "Cayleigh?" 

He nods. "Turns out she had a secret of her own that she was keeping. Magic." The word falls into the room and the silence is once again heavy and oppressive. 

"Where is Cayleigh?" Natasha questions, her gaze shifting to the pile of clothes on the table. 

"In Central Park," Clint tells her. 

More silence for a moment. Rogers is the one to break it this time. "Your friend is wandering around Central Park naked at this time of night?" 

"No. She's a tree." 

His statement gives them all pause for a few moments. The best way to describe it is stunned silence. Again, Clint thinks that they shouldn't be quite so shocked by the news, given the nature of several people in the room. But he lets it pass and gives them the time they need to absorb that bit of information. While he waits, he turns his mind toward the reason they're there and he hopes that this will pay off for them. 

Thor finally speaks up, expression thoughtful. "What kind of magic did your friend have?" 

"She said it was a gift from a Faerie she met in the woods in England for doing a good deed." 

Thor nods at this and seems to consider his next words. "What more can you tell me of your friend and this magic?" 

"When the Faerie gifted her with magic, she said it left a tattoo that looked like an acorn on her back. Using the magic saw the tattoo going from acorn to sapling to fully grown tree," Clint tells him. "The limbs moved. Leaves rustled and fell. It looked like a living tree." 

"How does all this relate to Agent Coulson?" Bruce asks.

"Cayleigh used her magic to bring Phil back. She gave her life to him. I think. I don't really know what happened. Only that there was a soft glow and then he's alive and she's turned into a tree." 

Thor is silent, obviously contemplating what Clint's told him. Clint watches the other man anxiously, eager to know if Thor can come up with some way to reverse the magic. At the same time, he can feel the desire to ask more questions hovering over the room. No doubt Stark is about to explode with questions, but he holds his tongue for some reason. Finally, Thor looks up at Clint. His gaze lingers for a moment, then shifts to Phil and finally Nick. Clint's sure he sees a look of understanding in Thor's eyes. Then Thor shifts his attention back to Clint. "You want to know if there's any way to reverse the magic and bring your friend back." 

"I do. I don't want to exchange one friend for another." 

Thor nods. "I know little of magic. Magic was a skill my brother excelled at." The mention of Loki sees Clint's hopes dashed painfully. He knows exactly what kind of person Thor's brother is. There's no way the megalomaniac would be willing to help. "However, Loki learned his skills at the hand of our mother. Her knowledge of magic is vast. If anyone can find an answer to this riddle, it will be her." 

"Do you think she'll help?" This question comes from Phil. Clint knows he's grateful to Cayleigh for her selflessness, but he's also saddened by her sacrifice. Thor shifts his gaze to where Phil stands next to Nick, one hand on the other man's arm. The last of Nick's energy is fading and this needs to end soon so he can climb into bed and rest. Clint has no doubt he's been going without a break since the shit with Loki started. "Sit down before you fall over, Nick. Now isn't the time to be a badass." 

Nick wants to deny that he needs rest, rebellion bright in his gaze. Clint's too tired to bother with a filter or propriety. "God damn it, Nick. Just sit the fuck down before you fall down." He doesn't bother to check faces to gauge reactions. Instead, he turns back to Thor. "Will your mother help? We kind of promised Cayleigh we wouldn't leave her like that." 

"I believe she will. Once I explain the situation to her, I believe my mother will be eager to lend her assistance." Clint breathes a sigh of relief and glances over toward Phil and Nick. Both look as relieved as he feels. Thor gets to his feet and pulls Clint's attention back to him. "If there's nothing further, I'll seek my bed for the night. Tomorrow, I will return the Tesseract and my brother to Asgard." 

Its a blatant reminder that the rest of this mess is out of their hands. Clint would like nothing better than to put a few arrows into Thor's brother but he's come to realize that its a useless desire. Nothing he can do to Loki will mean anything. Perhaps Thor's father can mete out a fitting punishment. Clint won't lose any sleep if there's pain involved. Without another word, Thor exits the conference room, leaving them to their thoughts. "I want you all to make sure Loki and the Tesseract leave without a hitch. No one is to do anything. Just observe." Nick turns a stern look Clint's way. Clint nods and slowly pushes to his feet. 

"No problem. I don't want anything more to do with the megalomaniac." He reaches down and carefully picks up Cayleigh's clothes. "Can we go home now? I just want to climb into bed and go to sleep." 

Nick gives him a smile. "We'll go to my place." 

"That's more than I needed to know," Stark says as he pushes out of his chair. He walks around the table to where Clint, Nick, and Phil are clustered. He holds one hand out toward Phil and smiles, as close to genuine as Clint's ever seen on his face. "Its good to have you back, Agent." 

"Its good to be back, Mr. Stark," Phil replies and shakes Tony's hand. Rogers and Banner are close behind Stark, each offering their own warm welcomes. Natasha waits until they're gone before pulling Phil into a quick hug, mouth next to his ear as she whispers to him in Russian. Clint pretends not to hear her telling him that he'd better not die on her like that again or she'll kill him herself. Then she's gone and the three of them are alone. Clint turns pleased, tired eyes their way. 

Its definitely good to have Phil back. If they can just get Cayleigh back, it'll be even better.

~*~*~*~*~

The next two weeks are a blur of debriefs and visits to psych. Phil goes through a rigorous physical exam with the S.H.I.E.L.D. medical staff to ensure that there are no lingering effects from being dead. Or from being resurrected by Fae magic. Nick's time is spent mostly behind closed doors, in meetings with the World Security Council and with the agency's top rated agents. No doubt trying to plan the rebuild while not so subtly keeping the WSC out of his business. So the days are filled with activity that keeps them all busy and separate. The nights are slower and allow for quiet dinners and a few hours before the television before curling up in bed together. 

They rotate where they spend the night. One night, they're at Nick's. The next, they stay at Phil's. Those nights are easiest to deal with because he doesn't have anything around to remind him of Cayleigh. Then they'll stay at Clint's apartment and the anxiety returns. Its always thick there, and it leaves Clint worried that Thor's mother won't be able to find a way to reverse the magic. Or worse, that she'll leave Cayleigh to her fate. 

He does a good job of shoving the anxiety down, keeps it from interfering too much with his day to day routine. The guilt isn't so easy to rid himself of and many of his sessions with psych are spent discussing just how horrible the guilt is. He has not met a single agent who blames him for his actions, though he's gotten a few wary looks from some people. He deserves them and he knows he does. Because he can remember what he did while under Loki's influence. And he hates himself for it. But the shrinks assure him that his reactions are normal and there will eventually come a day that he doesn't feel quite so guilty and the blame will shift to the responsible party, where it really belongs. 

By the end of the second week, he's trying hard not to stress out over the lack of communication from Thor. Not that he knows how it would work between Asgard and Earth. He suspects that a phone call is well out of the question. He's been half expecting a lightning bolt to strike headquarters, a note attached to it to let them know what's going on. But there's no phone call, no bolt of homing lightning with a message attached to it. And the second week drags into the third. 

Three weeks to the day that Thor returned to Asgard with his brother and the cube, agents manning the bank of computers used to monitor pretty much the entire world make an excited call to Nick. There's been a surge of energy in the Central Park area that is very similar the the energy surges recorded when Thor and the Destroyer came to earth. Nick calls Phil and Clint to let them know about the development. They're in motion in only moments. 

By the time they reach the park, there are squad cars lined up along the road with their lights flashing. Clint spies a sporty Acura at the curb, along with a motorcycle and a black Corvette. Great. There's going to be an audience for all of this. Trying hard not to get his hopes up, he climbs from the SUV and walks side by side with Nick and Phil toward the spot where Cayleigh had given her life to mend Clint and Nick's broken hearts. 

The police let them through with little fuss and go back to keeping the general public out of the area. Clint can feel dozens of sets of eyes on his back as he heads up the path with a plastic bag in hand. There are already reporters there, throwing questions out in loud voices that ring over each other. No doubt everyone is worried that there will be more aliens invading the city or some other kind of major catastrophe that requires the talents of the Avengers. He wonders if they'd be let down to find out that its simply a meeting to hopefully change a tree back into a human being. 

The sounds fade away as they move closer to the Reservoir. There's a heavy taste of ozone on the air, along with something much more subtle. Soon enough, they come to the spot where an oddly shaped oak tree stands by itself. There's a small group of people standing by it. He spots Thor first, then his eyes pick out the other Asgardians who were there in New Mexico. A regal looking woman stands beside Thor, her attention focused on the tree in question. Off to the side, there is a single woman watching over the group with an intense stare. She's tall with golden hair caught in two braids and a sword strapped to her side. Lastly, he sees the rest of the Avengers. They're standing near Thor, and Stark and Banner seem to be locked in conversation with the woman standing by Thor. 

When the golden haired women spies the three of them, Clint sees her muscles tense in preparation of taking action. Then Thor turns and smiles his broad smile. "My friends!" he calls out cheerfully and Clint watches the woman relax. But she doesn't let down her guard. "Come. Meet my mother. She is anxious to help." 

Nick, Phil, and Clint join the small group and several moments are spent in greetings and introductions. The group from New Mexico turn out to be Thor's oldest friends. Thor names them one at a time, his hand clapping each one on the back. Clint finds himself clasping hands with Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, and the Lady Sif. Then Thor is moving on to the woman who has stood beside him the whole time. "This is my mother, Frigga." 

"A pleasure to meet you, my lady," Phil says, not quite sure what to do with his hands. "My name is Phil Coulson."

Frigga smiles at him. "My son has told me many things about you. He counts you as a friend and ally. The pleasure is all mine." 

Phil smiles at the praise, then turns to look toward Clint and Nick. One hand motions them forward until they stand beside him. Thor's mother turns to greet them with a soft smile. "Mother, this is Clint Barton," Thor supplies, one large hand gesturing toward Clint briefly. "He was with us during the battle with the Chitauri. He is a very skilled warrior. Beside him is the man in charge of protecting this realm, Nick Fury." 

"My son speaks highly of you all," Frigga tells them, her gaze shifting to encompass the rest of the Avengers. "I am honored to do what I can to aid such warriors. And I wish there was more time for other pleasantries, but we must begin now if we're to save your friend." 

Clint doesn't like the faint touch of desperation in Frigga's voice. He doesn't have a chance to ask about it because she turns from him and looks to her son. "I need you and the others to form a circle around us. Keep a wary eye for anything out of the ordinary or unnatural. Should something join us, use swords and blades to keep them at bay. I will work as quickly as I can." 

"Of course, Mother," Thor nods. He glances at Clint where he stands with Nick and Phil and offers a smile. "I told you my mother would help." Then he strides away to where his four Asgardian friends await him to deliver his mother's instructions.

"Your friend will be in a weakened state. Her limbs will be stiff from holding one position for so long. She's going to need you to catch her when the spell is gone," Frigga explains as she moves toward the lonely little tree. Clint follows and he can feel Nick and Phil at his back. 

"What do you need us to do?" Nick asks. His voice is a mix of Director Fury, head of S.H.I.E.L.D., and Nick, a man who doesn't know what the hell is going on.

"Believe," she replies as she steps into place before the tree. Clint takes up position behind it and glances toward the other Avengers, who seem to be uncertain of their role in the park now that they're certain there are no invading aliens to contend with. "All of you," Frigga raises her voice just a little. "I need you to believe." 

Clint watches as she holds out her hands so that they hover just above the tree's bark. Her eyes close and, in the blink of an eye, the air around him is thick and heavy with intent. There is no otherworldly glow, nothing at all to mark the use of magic like there had been with Cayleigh. Instead, there is a charge on the air that dances against Clint's skin and the whisper of leaves rustling on the wind. 

At first, nothing happens. Then the wind picks up and practically howls. It batters them, tries to blow them over. Voices whisper on the air, speaking ancient words that drip with dark promise. Frigga ignores them and leans closer to the tree without touching it. Her lips are moving now, forming the same words over and over again. In only moments, Clint hears a soft cracking noise over the wind, then bits of bark are falling off the tree before him.

The wind slams into them harder as the tree limbs reaching to the sky just above his head begin to break away and tumble to the ground. Clint watches as they come off, sometimes one at a time and sometimes two or three together. They hit the ground around him and begin to shrivel up. The leaves go from bright green to dull brown between one heartbeat and the next. More pieces of bark, larger ones, continue to fall away from the tree. Hints of pale flesh show in the spots where the bark fell from. 

Soon there are fingertips and the bark falls away faster and faster, in larger chunks. More skin is revealed, along with Cayleigh's hands and upper arms. As the tree falls away from her, the top of her head sees the light of day. Her face and neck. Without the support of the tree there, Cayleigh's head tips forward until her chin hits her chest. 

By this time, the wind is screaming at them, trying to physically pull Frigga away from the tree that is rapidly becoming a person. Clint can feel rage in the air, but it isn't stronger than Frigga's magic. Sounds pours from her mouth and resolves itself into a chant, the same grouping of words over and over again. There's power behind those words and they echo over the roaring wind. The power swells around them, growing thicker and heavier until it feels like Clint can't move a muscle. 

A loud crack fills the air as the power breaks and giant shards of bark spray outward from the trunk of the tree. Clint has a second to recognize Cayleigh's human body before he finds himself catching her before she topples to the ground. As suddenly as it started, the wind stops and the pressure of magic that had built on the air is gone. Clint catches sight of Nick and Phil taking hold of Frigga's arms to keep her upright before he focuses his attention on Cayleigh. 

"Mother!" Thor's voice echoes in the now silent clearing.

"I'm fine, my son. Just a little overtaxed. We were almost too late," Frigga replies, voice laden with exhaustion. "I would like to rest before we return to Asgard, if such a thing is possible." 

Whatever conversation happens next, Clint tunes it out and gives his attention over to Cayleigh. She hasn't moved yet, but her eyelids are fluttering with the effort to pry them apart. Her chest rises and falls slow but steady. Clint becomes aware that she is very much naked and his hand reaches for the plastic bag he brought to the park with him. Just as he's pulling Cayleigh's clothing from the bag, a shadow falls over them. Clint looks up to find Natasha there. She offers him a faint smile and motions to the other woman's clothing. "I thought you could use a hand." 

"Thanks," he replies, voice sincere. She kneels down and begins sorting through the bundle of clothes to find Cayleigh's underwear. 

"We don't have time for that," Nick's voice breaks the silence. They look up to find him standing over them, one hand held out in their direction. His trench coat hangs from his fingers. Natasha reaches up to take it from him wordlessly, then turns to help Clint wrap it around Cayleigh. She's still not quite aware of her surroundings, so Clint stands with Cayleigh cradled in his arms. Natasha returns Cayleigh's clothing to the plastic bag, and they turn to face everyone else in the clearing. The whole group is staring at them. 

Stark blinks at Clint. "Well, holy shit. She was a tree." Clint gives him a look but says nothing. "So. Party at the tower. Everyone is invited. I hope we have extra seats somewhere because I didn't bring the limo." 

Clint rolls his eyes and turns for the path leading back to the road without speaking at all. Tony continues on behind him and Clint tunes him out, more intent on his longtime friend. Phil and Nick fall into step behind him, their combined presence at his back going a long way toward centering him. "I've spoken to Doctor Banner and he's agreed to give Cayleigh a quick exam once we get to Stark Tower. To ensure that there are no ill effects. If he finds anything serious, we'll take her to S.H.I.E.L.D. medical immediately." 

"Thanks, Nick. I appreciate that." 

"Don't thank me, Clint. Cayleigh's part of the family. She offered herself up to save Phil. She's on my Christmas card list for life," Nick replies. Clint snorts a laugh before falling silent and letting the sounds of the park filter into his brain. 

"Don't look now, but I think Nick wants to adopt her," Phil teases. That draws more laughter from Clint. And then they're breaking the clearing to find that the park has turned into a giant circus. The media presence has grown, as has the crowd of civilians. As soon as the reporters spy them, they start tossing questions their way. Ignoring them, Clint hurries to the SUV. After getting Cayleigh in, he climbs in beside her and buckles her seat belt. She's starting to come around, finally, eyes moving slowly as she takes in the scene playing out beyond the windshield. When her eyes eventually turn Clint's way, there is a good deal of confusion in them. 

"We promised we'd bring you back, Cayleigh," Clint tells her. Nick is already in the driver's seat, engine idling. Phil has taken the front passenger seat and both men turn to look back at her. Their smiles and soft and genuine and they make Clint's heart beat just a little faster. All is right with his world now. 

"I always keep my promises," Nick tells her. 

"Thank you," Phil says simply. It earns him a shy smile from Cayleigh. But that only lasts until Phil opens his mouth again. "We'll discuss your choices at greater length when you're recovered from having been a tree for three weeks." 

"I'm... sorry?" she croaks out, coughing against the dryness in her throat. 

"Welcome home, Cayleigh," Clint whispers, then leans in and presses a kiss to her temple. Yes. All is definitely right with his world now. 

~*~

He first saw her on a Tuesday, peering out of her apartment at he and Natasha like she didn't want to get involved in his life. And still she did just that. And she became one of his best friends. He lost her on a Tuesday, when he'd already lost so much, and her sacrifice had been one of the most selfless acts he'd ever seen. It had made him both incredibly happy and incredibly sad at the same time. And now, it is a Tuesday again when she comes back into his life. Clint knows that family isn't always borne of blood ties. Sometimes, family is the one you make for yourself.

There's Bobbi, who married him on a whim and never regretted it, even when it ended. They've stayed friends ever since and he still loves her even though he isn't in love with her. Natasha has been family for a long, long time now. Ever since she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and figured out that Clint was never going to do anything to intentionally hurt her. Phil and Nick are more recent additions to his family, but they're important. And then there's Cayleigh, who is wise beyond her years and more compassionate than anyone Clint has ever known. She's the sister he never had. 

Clint lets his gaze roam around the ruined interior of Stark's private residence. The windows have been replaced, but little else by way of rebuilding has taken place. So there is still an Asgardian shaped hole in the floor and other various scars left behind by the battle. There are places where plastic sheeting has been used liberally. But much of the living area has gone unscathed, marking a sharp contrast between the damage and the original design. 

Stark is playing bartender, pouring drinks for whomever might want one. As far as Clint can tell, he has yet to pour one for himself. For the time being, he's caught up in an intense conversation with Doctor Banner, who is smiling indulgently at whatever Stark is saying. Banner has proved to be an odd mix of scientist and medical doctor. Upon their arrival at the tower, he'd ushered Cayleigh off into a private room for a thorough examination to determine whether or not the spell had left behind any lingering issues. Beyond the need to rehydrate, take in some protein, and rest, he's declared her in good condition. 

Nick is mingling with Hogun, Volstagg, and Fandral. The four of them look like they're deep in conversation. Nick's shoulders are loose and down, as relaxed as Clint ever sees him get. Given the state of affairs for the past month, its a welcome sight. Whatever they're talking about sees Volstagg roaring with laughter. Fandral joins in, but his eye is clearly wandering to the other side of the room. Clint doesn't have to look to know what the man is staring at. Hogun smiles faintly, the only sign that he's amused by whatever was said.

Phil is standing with Thor and Frigga. They're joined by Frigga's guard, who is much more relaxed now that they're not standing out in the open. Clint has learned that her name is Brunnhilde and she's a great warrior, but he has yet to speak to her. She seems to be content to listen to whatever words are passing between Phil, Thor, and his mother. Frigga, Clint has learned, is a very kind and generous woman. While Banner examined Cayleigh, the queen of Asgard was apologizing to him for not being there to help sooner.

During his conversation with Frigga, Clint learned why it took three weeks for the Asgardians to return to Earth. She'd had to spend at least two weeks hunting for the Faerie who had laid the curse on Cayleigh's head. And it was a curse. This Faerie, it seems, is vengeful and full of spite, and he has made it his life's work to ensnare unsuspecting humans and punish them for being selfish. He had believed that no human could be selfless enough to do anything but use the magic for his or herself. The curse should have turned Cayleigh into the tree the moment she used all of the magic. But because she gave her life to save another, it took time for the spell to complete itself. The Faerie responsible for the curse had tried to evade Frigga until there was no time left to save Cayleigh.

He finally shifts his attention to Cayleigh. She stands with Natasha, her shoulders and arms bare. The two of them are chatting and while he's fairly certain that Natasha knows he's watching them, he's also pretty sure that Cayleigh has no clue. That allows him to watch and catch a glimpse of tree branches waving back and forth with each smile and laugh. 

The tree is still there. While the twining branches and roots that covered her arms and legs before have vanished, there is still a fully grown tree on her back. One that sometimes stands still and still other times sways to and fro. That happens when she smiles or laughs and shows great joy. The tree looks healthy and strong. The branches are thick with glossy green leaves. He's seen one or two of them fall to her feet since bringing her back to the tower. To those who don't know her well, it looks like a very well done tattoo. But the tree is still magical and it will always be. Frigga has told Cayleigh that it will forever hold some small kernel of magic in it. 

Cayleigh laughs, the sound carrying around the spacious living room, and Clint catches sight of tree limbs blowing on the wind. Smiling to himself, he turns to look out the window at the city beyond. It still bears the scars of the battle with the Chitauri, but the cleanup and rebuild is already in full swing. Eventually, all that will remain of the alien invasion will be memory and a few physical scars. Structures will be rebuilt and wounds will heal. Life will go on. 

He sees Nick and Phil move up behind him as reflections in the glass. He smiles at them both, glad to have them both there with him. The sun is starting to edge its way toward the horizon, marking the end of a long and trying day. A soft thrill runs through him when each man places a hand on his back, their heat seeping into him through cloth and flesh. "You've been pretty quiet today, Clint. Everything okay?" Nick asks him quietly. 

His answer comes in the form of a kiss. It isn't filled with frantic heat or lustful promise. As kisses go, its sweet and mostly chaste. Just a taste of what will come later. Uncaring of anyone who might be watching, Nick leans into him and gives him need and hunger. When Clint breaks from Nick, he turns to Phil and offers the same kiss. Phil kisses back the way he always does, with a soft nip to Clint's lower lip. When he pulls back, Clint's heart is beating just a little faster. 

For the first time in a very long time, Clint feels at peace with the world. His life, though far from perfect, is perfect for him. He scans the interior of Stark's living room one more time, his gaze landing and lingering on each person there. Everyone is laughing. Everyone is smiling. These people are his friends. Some have been his friends for years while some are new friends. Some of them are more than friends. All of them are his family. A family of his choosing. 

Love fills him. The sun is setting on the day, allowing darkness to spread across the sky. And as the old day ends, so, too, ends Clint's old life. The one that had been full of fear. When the sun rises in the morning, it will shed light upon a new day. And Clint's new life. A life filled with love and laughter and family. His eyes catch the subtle sway of tree limbs across Cayleigh's back before she turns to face him, mouth stretched wide and eyes bright. She mouths her thanks to him, then tips her head back and laughs at something Natasha whispers in her ear. 

There is magic in Cayleigh's laughter. Her joy wraps around him, fills him with warmth. Clint is looking forward to tomorrow. And all the tomorrows after that. He knows that every tomorrow will be filled with love and laughter. With family and friends. 

And with magic.


End file.
